


Like Peanut Butter and Jelly

by hutchynstarsk



Series: Like Starsky and Hutch [2]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Bromance, Cuddling, Gen, High School AU, Romantic Friendship, basically pretty damn mushy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchynstarsk/pseuds/hutchynstarsk
Summary: Uploading this because Google Sites won't let me keep it there!
Series: Like Starsky and Hutch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935154
Kudos: 2





	Like Peanut Butter and Jelly




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### Like Peanut Butter and Jelly

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the sequel to this story, where Starsky and Hutch met as teens:  
[http://sites.google.com/site/alliesfanfiction/like-peas-and-carrots](https://sites.google.com/site/alliesfanfiction/like-peas-and-carrots)  
  


I want to thank three people:

  * Nicky Gabriel for betaing the whole story (very quickly too!!) and giving me some important suggestions,



  * Kuonji for helping me with one scene where I got stuck,



  * Monika, who encouraged me to write more in the first place. :)



Take care,

~Allie

Like Peanut Butter and Jelly

Chapter One

Ken drew his shoulders back and stood straight. “Well? Do I pass inspection?” He stood in the kitchen by the door, wearing a ridiculously huge great-coat, even though it was nearly spring, and regarded Dave with affectionate tolerance.

Dave’s eyes narrowed, travelling up and down his frame, the huge coat, and his boots, hat, and scarf. At last, Dave nodded. “All right. But keep that scarf tucked a little tighter.” He stepped forward and adjusted it, fixing it more closely around Ken’s neck.

“Are we done yet? I suppose you’d like to be late for school?”

“No. Let’s go.” They walked down to the car. Dave wore only his varsity jacket and a knit cap to keep him warm, whereas Ken looked like a small bear, muffled in his huge coat. He didn’t argue. He’d given up arguing.

Although it was nearly spring, and there hadn’t been snow for weeks, and he was quite well from his bout with pneumonia—even well enough to resume all his old chores—Dave hadn’t stopped mother-henning him yet, and he’d resigned himself to that fact—at least until he regained some weight.

He’d lost nearly ten pounds while he was ill with pneumonia, and although he’d gotten his strength back, he was still skinny. Dave said his face looked thin, and he didn’t feel big enough around. He was getting to be rather annoying, asking if Ken wanted something more to eat at every meal, and frequently suggesting he snack on something fattening.

He didn’t seem to get it that just putting on extra weight from eating donuts wouldn’t equate to good health. Ken was quite content to proceed slowly, and regain any weight in a healthy manner. Maybe even wait until the spring, when he could rebuild his weight as muscle, during spring training. At least, as long as he made the team…

“Ken.” Dave hopped to catch up with him, rounding the side of the car before he did, yanking the door open and holding it for him.

Ken sent him a glare, holding his book bag, and plopped into the seat. “I can get the door myself, Dave.”

Dave shut the door carefully behind him. “I know you can.” 

He ran around, got in, started the engine, and drove to school with the heater cranked up as high as it would go. It was a rattley, nasty old heater. He’d fixed it specially for when Ken got out of the hospital; it had been broken before.

Now they couldn’t go anywhere without it blaring full blast. It made it hard to talk over the volume, hard even to listen to the radio—when it worked.

They drove to school—Dave in charge of that, of course. He pulled up right at the entrance, his disreputable old car belching smoke onto the front steps, making students wave their hands and cough and glare. Ken got the door for himself—it did feel rather heavy, but that was just because he hadn’t totally regained his strength yet. No way was he letting on to Dave, though.

He got the door open, got out, and at last the car belched away behind him. Leaving him with the glares.

“Eh. Heh. Sorry.” He smiled around apologetically, hugging his book bag close, and hurried up the stairs, his brow creasing, his shoulders slinking downwards again.

By the time Dave caught up with him, he was the last one to slip inside. He slid into his seat beside Ken’s, nearly late for class, smelling of cold air and fresh cigarette smoke.

Ken cast him a ‘where have you been?’ look. Dave had been talking about quitting—he’d been cutting back—and now he was rushing out for a quick smoke before school?

Dave shrugged with his eyebrows, and tapped a pencil on his desk. He seemed to hate sitting still. By partway through the class, he’d rearranged his desk, doodled a whole space battle on his chemistry workbook, and slipped a candy bar out of his book bag. 

He unwrapped it surreptitiously on his lap, and broke off a corner. His hand edged over, and nudged Ken’s leg. He held the candy out, raising his eyebrows. Well? Aren’t you gonna take it?

Ken arched one sarcastic brow in reply. In class? You want me to eat in class? You must be nuts.

Nuts. I should’ve thought of that!

Perhaps it was a mark of mental illness. You couldn’t get all that from a raised eyebrow, surely. He just knew Dave so well now, he could actually hear his comebacks—or at least imagine what he might be—without Dave having to utter one single word.

Dave hesitated, then popped the chocolate into his mouth. Ken looked at him in undisguised disgust. Eating in class! And candy, at that. 

Although come to think of it, he didn’t know what Dave could eat in class that wouldn’t disgust him. Broccoli, perhaps?

“David Starsky!” the teacher snapped.

Dave’s head shot up. Busted. He’d gotten a smear of chocolate on his mouth, and of course his hands were sticky, too. 

“Yeah?” Dave stood up—and the candy bar slid down from his lap, plopped on the floor with a smacking, cracking sound, like dropped chalk. All the students stared; a number of them laughed. Dave’s face grew longer at the sight of the ruined candy bar. The broken chocolate had slid out of its wrapper and lay on the filthy school floor, in pieces.

“To the principal’s office—right now!” The teacher pointed dramatically to the door.

Dave rose, shoulders back, head high, his blue eyes looking dark and foreboding. He threaded his way past Ken’s desk and stalked back through the room. Immediately, the laughter quieted. There was the slight sound of a scuffle as Dave passed a desk in the back—Ken looked back quickly to see the leg that had snaked out into the pathway, and Dave trying to dance around it. He gave the student in question—another letter jacket, leering at him—a shove in the shoulder, and made it past.

The desk and chair squeaked, though, at the push. The teacher’s head jerked up again.

“David Starsky! That’s your second strike, young man. You’re bucking for a suspension!” The finger jutted towards the door again, harder.

Dave hesitated just an instant, his eyes hooded, his face unreadable, tough, and unresponsive. Then he opened the door, left the room, and pulled it shut behind him—just a little too hard.

Some of the girls giggled. 

Ken put his head down on his desk, and groaned inwardly.

#

Dave caught up with Ken later, at lunchtime.

“Detention?” said Ken, not looking at him as Dave fell into step with him.

“Yeah.” Dave eyed the line of food ravenously. He was the only person Ken knew who could get excited about cafeteria food.

Ken sighed. “Guess I’ll be walking home.”

“No, you take the car—I’ll walk.” His hand rested briefly in the middle of Ken’s back, then shouldered past him, to the mystery meat.

Ken glared at him. Good old Dave—thinking he was saving the day—when all he was doing was getting in trouble.

#

Dave kept his mouth shut at supper, didn’t suggest Ken try more of anything. But he kept watch, seeming to monitor every bite, every bit of food that entered Ken’s mouth. Man, it was like being suffocated by concern!

He glared at him twice, and Dave had the decency to look away each time—at least briefly.

He ate a candy bar in their room that evening, while Ken was getting out the homework to read. Ken looked up at the sound of the wrapper crinkling.

“I won’t offer you any, ‘cuz I know you hate chocolate,” said Dave, sulkily.

“Go ahead. Be a baby.” He slammed a book down on the bed and walked away.

“Ken!” Dave started after him, his voice half a pleading complaint, half a growl. “Don’t be like that!”

“You’re like that! Can’t quit bugging me, just because you think I don’t weigh enough.” He leaned against the doorframe, trembling a little, and turned to glare at Dave, his eyes, surprisingly, a little wet. “This how it’s gonna be if I ever put on weight—if I get fat? You going to tell me I need to lose weight, bug me about how much I eat, watch every bite?”

“No!” Dave drew back, a disgusted look on his face. “What do you think I am? Just want you to be healthy, Blintz.” He eased forward again, and touched Ken’s sides, running his hands up and down them. Through his flannel shirt, the touch felt good, but Ken kept looking at him, unblinking.

“Just want you to be healthy,” said Dave, very quietly. His voice held a little wobble now. “I worry ‘bout ya, Sea Scout.”

Ken blinked his eyes—wet, dang it all. “I know you do. Could you stop? I’d like to forget about being in the hospital.”

“Me too. But I can’t. I don’t want you to go back there.” He leaned closer, his arms hooked loosely around Ken. “Just want you to be okay, Blintz.”

Ken swallowed, hard. “You don’t h-have to suffocate me with worry.”

“Don’t wanna do that. I’ll stop nagging you about eating, only—only you WILL eat, won’t you, Blintz? Don’t starve yourself out of pure cussedness.”

Ken had to laugh, a little shakily. “What do you think I am? I really do eat, Starsk. I’m just not as hungry lately. I think my stomach shrunk a little in the hospital—and of course, you seem to think I should be eating like a truck driver. I’m just not there yet. Maybe I never will be.”

Dave’s face grew long. “Don’t say that. I want you well.”

“And I will be. I will be, Starsk. Maybe I’m not one hundred percent yet, but I’m doing really well, and you’d see that if you could let go of your worry for one minute.” He poked Dave in the side. “So relax, would you, Curly?”

#

Later, while he was doing his math homework, he heard the front door slam, and the car start. He raised his head, wondering who was going away, and why. Perhaps his auntie was grocery shopping. He bit his lip. Even that would be more interesting than math.

He got up and peered out the window, spotted the car just as it was pulling away. Two people in it—the long haired Aunt Hazel and…a curly-headed teen boy.

Okay.

Dave left without saying anything.

So what? He wanted to go grocery shopping over doing homework, too. That was all. Not like he had to tell Dave everywhere he went.

Ken settled back down to his homework, frowning. His uncle was still at work. For one of the first times in quite awhile, Ken was all alone.

He found himself listening to the quiet, almost waiting for some noise or other, tensing his jaw, holding his breath. Waiting for something. At last he closed his math book with a sigh, and wandered downstairs, reflecting idly that at least Dave wasn’t here to tell him to put another shirt on. A flannel shirt ought to be warm enough in February.

He wandered out to the kitchen. He could smell something pleasant baking. He peeked into the oven, and spied meatloaf roasting. Yum! Dave would enjoy that. Baking potatoes sat alongside, giving off a less pungent odor. Some of auntie’s home-canned green beans sat on the stove, and a plate of cookies. It would be a good supper; delicious.

He was just heading back upstairs to get a record to listen to, when he heard a loud noise.

Sounded like it was coming from the garage.

Ken grabbed his bat by the door and hurried out. Since his ill-fated attempt to rescue Dave from his uncle, he didn’t like the thought of tackling danger without some kind of weapon he could use. And he certainly knew how to use a bat—at least during baseball season.

“Dave?”

Ken started into the shed cautiously, holding the baseball bat high. His heart thumped a little, in spite of himself. It was probably just a joke, that was all. A Dave joke: Dave had come home early and hidden in the garage to give Ken a scare. Be lucky if he didn’t get a broken arm out of it.

Ken bit his lip, and stepped further in. “Davey? Come on. Don’t want to hurt you.”

A loud clatter—he jumped two feet in the air and yelped. Old paint cans and a keg of nails fell to the ground. A large orange cat streaked by and out the door.

Ken sagged, breathing hard, feeling as if he’d just run a marathon. When would he get his old strength back?

One thing was for sure. He wasn’t telling anyone about this… No siree. Scared by a cat… He sat the bat down, and bent to pick up the cans.

His hands were trembling a little from the pent up anxiety. Should he have stayed in the house, maybe? It was cold out here. Dave would have told him to go put on a coat. But, with no Dave here to bug him, Ken put up with the cold, finished picking up, and locked the garage securely behind him before going inside. By then, his chest had started to hurt. He went upstairs and lay down, and didn’t wake up until someone called him for supper.

#

That night, he had a cough. It woke him up, making his chest hurt. He rolled over, pressed a hand to his chest and coughed, coughed, coughed again. It hurt; he stopped coughing and concentrated on drawing in big, replenishing lungfuls of air.

He glanced over at the other bed, brow wrinkling, worried he’d wake Dave. But the curly-headed boy was snoring lightly, dead to the world, filling his bed, his arms splayed out, his legs obviously askew under the messy covers. 

Good. Dave needed his sleep.

But…the cough returned, rattling Ken’s chest.

Please. Come on! I didn’t get a cough again because I stayed outside for a few minutes without a coat.

He began to tremble, remembering the hospital. He wasn’t going to have to go back, was he?

It felt so cold tonight. It hadn’t been this cold earlier, had it? Somehow, the middle of the night was always the coldest time of day.

He scraped back his covers, shoved his feet into slippers, put on his dressing gown (a huge, thick number they’d bought specially for him—what a waste of money—although it did feel comfortingly thick now). Shivering, he made his way down the stairs quietly, hoping to disturb no one.

He sat up in the kitchen, waiting for the tea kettle to boil, rubbed his neck and chest with Vicks vapor rub, and pinned an old sock around his neck.

Then he made some peppermint tea, and sat blowing on it and sipping it, and finally made his way heavy-lidded back upstairs. He pulled the covers up, still in his dressing gown, and fell instantly asleep.

#

“Hutch.” Someone was shaking his arm. “Hutch.”

“Mm?” He rolled over, blinking. His whole body felt heavy and sodden, his throat hurt, and he had to pee.

Dave sat on the edge of his bed, dressed and ready for school, glaring down at him. “What’s wrong with you, Kenny? You feel sick during the night, and you don’t even wake me up?”

“How do you know I…” He yawned, hugely, and wondered how he’d ever haul himself out of bed. He snuck a glance at the clock. Dave could’ve at least had the decency to wake him a little earlier.

“You rubbed your neck, you’re wearing your bathrobe, and there’s an empty tea cup in the sink this morning!” His voice rose, and Ken winced, bringing his hands up to cover his ears.

“Don’t shout.”

“Okay. I won’t shout.” He softened his voice, and put his hands on Ken’s sides, rubbing him a little. “Next time, wake me up, okay?”

“Didn’t want to disturb…”

“Don’t give me that. You knew I’d want you to wake me, and you didn’t. Now I don’t know why, but promise you won’t do it again. Okay?”

“Okay,” mumbled Ken, too sleepy to argue.

“That’s better.” Dave stood up. Ken missed the feel of his hands, even through the thick quilts and all his clothing. There was something special about Dave’s hands, something reassuring—especially when you woke up with a sore throat.

“Now I’m going to school, and you’re staying home. I’ll tell Aunt Hazel. You’re not fit to leave the house. And whatever you did yesterday, to make yourself sicker—well you’re not to do it again, hear? Do I have to watch you ever minute?”

He was giving Ken the old glare. Ken frowned sleepily up at him. “I’m awake. I can go to school…”

“No, you can’t, and you know it. Why do you hafta be so stubborn, Ken?”

Ken’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Not your damn baby, Starsk.” He rolled over, feeling like he wanted to pout. Trust Dave to get him riled, and this early in the morning, too. He wished his head didn’t feel so fuzzy, and his throat didn’t hurt when he talked or swallowed.

“Seems to me a baby’s the only person who doesn’t take care of himself properly,” said Dave. He stood staring (probably glaring) down at Ken. Ken didn’t roll over again, but he could feel those dark blue eyes on him, judging him, worrying about him.

“See you later,” said Dave, sounding angry. His footsteps retreated out the room and down the stairs.

Ken bit his lip. Great. He really didn’t feel well enough to go to school—but it was just a cold or something, right? Not a relapse? 

If he stayed here, he’d be letting Dave win… His eyelids drifted shut. Let him win for once. As long as I don’t have to get up, or move…

After a few minutes, he got up, groaning. Trust his bladder to have the last laugh. Then he headed down to the kitchen. His aunt was making a meat pie, rolling out crust on the counter, sprinkling it with extra flour. It was white and dusty, like light snow. 

She turned and glanced at him. “Ah, Kenny. You’re up. Dave said you weren’t well. Do you need to see the doctor?”

“I hope not.” He sat down at the kitchen table, and scrubbed his face with his hands. There was the cough again. She stopped what she was doing and watched him, closely. Maybe Dave wasn’t the only one being overly careful with him lately. 

And why couldn’t Ken just be well now? He wanted to be well. It wouldn’t be long before spring training and—well—he just wanted to be well.

“I’ll take your temperature,” she said, rinsing off her hands in the sink, and wiping them purposefully on her apron as she left the room.

#

Ken had a slight fever, and his cough seemed bad enough that Hazel bundled him up and drove him to the doctor. Here he sat miserably perched on the exam table while a cold stethoscope was pressed here and there to his chest, and he had to cough on command. It still hurt to cough.

When he finished, the doctor drew back, and regarded him. “Hm. Just as I thought.” He turned to Auntie. “I was afraid this would happen. He’s recovered from the pneumonia, but it left his immune system weakened. He’s caught another bug. I hope it’s not as serious, but we have to face the fact that he’s a in a weakened condition right now. This cold weather isn’t helping.”

Aunt Hazel clutched her purse’s handles, looking really worried. “What would you suggest we do, Doctor?”

“Complete bed rest for now. And when he’s feeling up to it, I’d recommend a trip to a warmer climate. Somewhere near the equator, if you can afford it—but anywhere warm would do. Nevada, perhaps.”

“Southern California?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s terribly wet this time of year—that wouldn’t help his lungs right now. Oh, and keep his room as warm as possible. I’ll write you a prescription for some good cough medicine.”

“Thank you, doctor,” said Aunt Hazel. She cast Ken a worried look. He hung his head.

Here I was, worried about people worrying about me too much…and I’ve just made myself sick again. 

He’d deserved all the nagging Dave gave him, and more. Look what he’d done. He winced at the thought of how he hadn’t wanted to wear his coat. It had only been a few minutes, but it was probably still his fault. And now he was making difficulties for everyone. Uncle Bill and Aunt Hazel couldn’t afford to send him anywhere.

When they got home, Aunt Hazel tucked him firmly in on the couch. “It’s warmer down here. I wonder how soon you’ll be well enough to travel.” Worry stood on her face as if it had been written there with a big magic marker.

Ken coughed, and coughed some more. It shook his frame, and only made her worry more. He wished he could stop it. But it was hard enough having to cough, much less having to cough and feeling like you shouldn’t.

“I’m going to call your father.” She went to the phone.

“No—he won’t. You don’t…”

“Ken, your father and mother need to know how you are. And frankly, they’ll have to pay for your trip. Your uncle and I can’t afford anything like that right now.”

“Maybe I can…”

“With the money you’re saving for college? I don’t think so.” She sounded unusually firm. Ken stopped arguing. Part of him wanted to beg, I’ll be good, I’ll get well soon, don’t send me away! But he didn’t want to end up in the hospital again. And thinking he knew best hadn’t served him very well before, had it?

He hunched miserably on the couch, to listen to the phone call. But it didn’t go as badly as he thought it would. His father wanted to talk to him for a few minutes, after Aunt Hazel calmly explained everything over the phone—his relapse and the doctor’s advice.

“He shouldn’t talk long,” she said, and then handed the phone to Ken. He felt glad she was being firm; he didn’t feel up to being firm himself.

“Hello Father,” he croaked into the phone. His throat hurt with each strain of the vocal cords, like little knives in his throat. He’d taken the cough syrup, but he wasn’t due for another dose for at least an hour.

“Kenneth.” Dad sounded—disapproving. Ken winced a little. Well, he felt guilty enough about getting sick again. Did Dad have to make it worse by being mad? Not that he called him ‘Dad’ to his face. It seemed too presumptuous, somehow.

“I hear you need to take a trip to a warmer climate.” Dad, trying to sound less grim—perhaps it was even an attempt at being jovial, although it was hard to tell over the phone; you couldn’t see the smile that looked a little painful, as if Dad wasn’t used to using it.

“Mm-hm. What the doctor said,” he rasped. He swallowed hard, gagging a little from the pain, and reached for his glass of water.

“Well, I’ll let you go. Get your rest, and I’ll wire some money to your uncle. Are you keeping up with your schoolwork—when you’re well enough to go?”

“Yes, D—Father. I am.” That was certainly true. He’d been working hard all year; he hadn’t fallen behind.

“Take care of yourself, Ken,” said Father gruffly, and hung up.

Ken blinked at the sudden lost connection, feeling a stab of regret. Every syllable made his throat hurt, but—maybe they could have talked a little longer. 

He handed the phone back, and his aunt gently replaced it.

Ken nodded to her, not sure why. Then he scrunched down farther, and pulled the blankets up and lowered his head, not sure why he suddenly had tears in his eyes and felt about five years old. 

Chapter two

“Hey, Invalid.” Dave dropped his book bag on the floor with a thump that made Ken jump. “Heard you’re going on vacation.” He flopped down on the edge of the couch, bouncing it a little. 

Ken moved his legs aside to give Dave more room. He shrugged broadly, making an apologetic, half-regretful face.

“Hurts to talk, doesn’t it?” Dave looked at him closely, concern ill-concealed behind his bluff manner. His eyes were watchful. He brought a hand out, and rubbed Ken’s arm.

Ken flinched a little from the gesture. He didn’t deserve anyone to be nice to him. He deserved yelling at, for not taking better care of himself.

As usual, Dave seemed to read his mind. “Hey. Don’t think like that, okay? It’s not your fault these stupid bugs keep catching you. They just like the taste of your Hutchinson flesh.” Dave stroked back his messy hair, fingered the sweat-wetted ends. “Don’t let it get you down, buddy.”

Ken nodded miserably, his eyes too full to dare look up and face Dave yet. 

It’s happening all over again. Just like in the hospital. I’m a weak nothing. Can’t do anything for myself, and constantly feel like crying… He wanted to punch something, shout, “Why can’t I just be normal again?!” Even Dave didn’t treat him the same when he was sick.

He rolled over to face the wall. What was the use anyway? He’d be stuck all alone. They wouldn’t let Dave come. It would just be him, alone on some desert.

Dave’s hand stayed warm on his shoulder for a moment, then withdrew. “You stay there and rest, Kenny. I’ll get you some tea…” His voice retreated. 

Ken just closed his eyes, feeling too low to even care.

#

That night, they got Ken tucked (far too obediently) into bed. He fell asleep instantly. The bedroom felt hot and muggy from the portable heater Ken’s uncle had hauled up the stairs, with Dave’s help.

Dave stood staring down at him a moment, at the dim light from the hall reflecting on his hair, making it look silvery in the dark. It made him immensely sad to see Ken lying there, looking flushed and young and vulnerable, like a sick little kid. He always looked younger asleep. 

It didn’t seem fair, him getting sick again. And Dave knew one other thing that wasn’t fair. He eased down the stairs again, walking quietly so he wouldn’t wake Ken.

Downstairs, they were talking in low voices. “He can’t be alone, Bill. I know you have work. I’ll take him. I’ll drive him down to Nevada, and he can get some sun.”

“Driving all that way by yourself? I don’t think so, Hazel. You know how you are about the highway driving. You can’t take back roads all the way to Nevada.”

“Well, this is Kenny we’re talking about.”

“I know. I know you’ve taken a shine to him, but…all I’m saying is that it’s his parents’ responsibility. We’ve taken him in, housed and clothed him, even practically adopted his little friend…”

Little friend? Dave blinked. I’m not little. His chest puffed out a bit, until he realized he was doing it and stopped.

Wait a minute. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. 

He walked into the room with his best tough guy rolling gait. They stopped talking and stared at him. “I’m going,” he said, gruffly, lowering his head a little, feeling stubborn as a bull.

They stared at him. And Dave was surprised to see relief on both their faces.

“What a good idea,” said Aunt Hazel, rising from the couch. “You can help with the driving, and help me take care of Ken.” She smiled suddenly, the worry lines easing from her face. “It shouldn’t be for too long. We can ask your teachers to assign work for the time we’re away, and you two can study when you have time, so you don’t fall behind.”

Dave grimaced. “Yeah, I guess we could do that. I kinda wanted to just skip schoolwork, but yeah. That’s probably something Hutch would worry about anyway, so…okay.” He gave a nod, settling himself to it—a road trip to be ruined by school. “We’ll do homework.”

#

“Davey. Dave.” Ken croaked, rolling around, thrashing with his covers. He grunted a little, painful-sounding, and coughed, weak but deep in the chest.

Dave was up and out of bed in an instant, moving to his side. “Hey. Hey, I’m here, Kenny. Lie still. Whatcha need? A drink?” He pushed a hand up over Ken’s forehead, shoving back his damp, plastered hair. Maybe the heater was turned too high. “Are you hot? Too hot, Ken?” He leaned closer. “Nod for a yes.”

“Dave…cat…” said Ken. His brow contorted with those trademark wrinkles. “A cat. Sorry, Dave.” He opened his eyes abruptly, and stared up at Dave with anxious blue orbs reflecting worry like a deep pool.

Dave gave his hand a squeeze, and rubbed a hand back over his forehead again. “It’s okay, you hear? I’m right here. What’s this about a cat?”

Ken opened his mouth to answer, then grimaced painfully, and brought a hand up to touch his throat. He looked at Dave worriedly, as if hoping he understood.

“No. Okay, don’t talk. Don’t worry about the cat. We’ll get you one if you want. I saw an orange one around recently…”

He saw Ken’s eyes widen in shock and something else—anxiety.

“Hey. Guess what?” He flicked Ken’s shoulder to get his attention off whatever was worrying him. Ken’s attention came back to him instantly. “I’m going with you. To Nevada. I’m gonna help drive! And take care of you. So would you move over? Make room, you big coughing Blintz.”

Ken pushed at him, frowning. His shove felt weak. Dave hated that, hated how weak he’d gotten, how tiredly he moved, like an old man sometimes…

“Get sick,” Ken croaked in his terrible, deep, sore voice. He winced, and Dave winced in sympathy.

“Don’t talk, Blondie! I won’t get sick, y’hear? I’m immortal.” He grinned, and went to turn the heater down, and padded back. He peeled one of the quilts off the Blintz, then crawled into bed next to him and slid an arm around him. “You just stay quiet, and don’t worry about no cats, or no gettin’ sick, or Nevada or nothing. I’m here, and I’m gonna take care of all o’ that.”

“Mmmh!” Ken made a complaining sound in his throat.

Dave reached up and covered his mouth with one hand. “You heard me, Blintz. No talking. I’m the boss for now, so just listen to me, and let me take care of you. When you’re well, you can boss me around as much as you want, and I promise, I won’t mind at all.” 

He wouldn’t, either. He’d be so glad to have Ken back, and healthy…

Ken’s muscles loosened, and he went slack on his side of the bed.

“Good Blintz.” Dave nestled down against him, head resting between Ken’s hot shoulder blades. He reached up and stroked his head again. “Good Blintz. That’s the way. Back to sleep. I’m gonna protect you from all the cats.”

A little sound, like Ken snorting. Dave grinned, glad he’d amused Ken. Just so long as that wrinkled, worried look left his face.

“Sleep now, Blondie. Sleep,” reminded Dave. He felt his own eyelids grow heavy, and drift shut.

#

“Kenny. Ken. Please drink some tea. Please?” Dave sat on the bed next to him, trying to look into his eyes. Ken kept squinting them shut as if it hurt to look at anything. “Kenny.” Dave rubbed his hair back. “Please. I’ll never tell you what to eat again, if you’ll just take care of yourself while you’re sick.”

“Dave.” Ken swallowed painfully. His hand closed around his arm. “Don’t.” He turned sideways, hunching away from the light, and the tea, and Dave.

“Kenny.” He put down the tea, and tucked the covers up carefully around Ken. Stroked a hand down over his downy hair, and then let him go. 

Needs to sleep. He just needs to sleep… 

#

Mr. Hutchinson called ahead, and booked a nice room for them in the warm Nevada countryside. He made it for two weeks, with the possibility for longer, if Ken needed it, and asked around among his colleagues and got the recommendation for a good doctor near there.

Dave kept going to school, and Ken kept convalescing. His throat stopped hurting so much, and he could talk now. He grew steadily better, and the fear of him returning to the hospital left the household. 

But he seemed awfully…compliant. He did everything he was told. The light had left his eyes, and he didn’t complain, didn’t try to do more than he could handle, didn’t argue. 

Dave was starting to hate this new, improved Ken.

One day he got home from school to see Ken sitting at the kitchen table, his history book open in front of him, his chin in his hands, staring wistfully out at the backyard.

“What is it, Kenny? See something, hm?” Dave leaned over to peer out as well.

“Just watching the birds. Sometimes they look for stuff to eat on the ground.”

“Well, we could feed them, you know?” He sat on the edge of the table.

“Nah.” Ken looked down at his book again. “I’m not allowed to go outside.”

Dave’s throat closed up. “What do you want to feed ‘em, Ken? I’ll put it out. Stale bread? Seeds? What?” He looked at Ken, smiling hopefully.

“Never mind. Doesn’t matter.” Ken kept his eyes on his homework, elbows propped on the table, swathed in the big, ugly sweater they made him wear.

They were doing their homework separately now. Ken didn’t have the voice strength to read to them both, and Dave could read well enough to tackle it on his own. But he missed hearing Ken’s voice, so calm and steady, always going on and on, making all the words work together and mean something, making schoolwork understandable, making the world make sense.

Dave rummaged around that night until he found some stale bread, and slipped out and sprinkled it on the ground, and gnawed his lip, hoping it would work, hoping to give Ken something to care about again.

#

“Ready?” Dave shouted, leaning over to honk the horn again. Then he jumped out of the passenger’s seat and ran back inside. “Come on!” He leaned on the door, swaying back and forth, growling a little. “I can carry it if it’s just packed!”

“Stubborn ass.” Ken glared at him. “She’s workin’ hard as she can!”

“Yeah, well maybe if you’d…” His voice trailed off. Ken stood glaring at him, standing looking ragged and gaunt in his jeans and giant sweater, wrapped around him and belted at his waist. It was a big blue number, made him look raggedy. The knit cap perched on his head was starting to slide sideways. And the circles under his eyes were almost as dark as his glare.

The glare followed Dave. He sidled past, made it into the other room. “Auntie, we have enough,” he said more gently, trying to take the bag from her. “Can’t we go now?” He lowered his voice. “Kenny’s just standing there, and…” He let his voice trail off, but she looked up now, and her eyes sought her nephew.

She stilled, and her shoulders straightened. 

“All right. Yes. I suppose we can buy anything extra…” Her voice trailed off, and she lifted the last case, handed it to Dave.

Dave trotted out to the car, put the bags in the trunk, and ran back.

“Ken. Come on.” He held the door open, motioning for Ken. 

Ken walked out, giving his fiercest glare, and elbowed past him at the door. He didn’t say a word.

Dave finally got Hazel into the car (front seat, passenger side), Ken in the back seat (swathed in a blanket and an even bigger glare), and himself into the driver’s seat.

“Okay, folks. This is your captain speaking. Keep your seatbelts on, and your trays in the upright position. We are cleared for takeoff!”

“Grow up,” came the grumpy mutter from the backseat.

“What was that? Your captain was speaking. Does he hear dissent? Because captains have the right to court-martial you know…”

“Oh, they do not!”

Dave pulled onto the road, and started driving. Who knew he’d get to be in charge of a road trip? He started to whistle quietly under his breath. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, and saw Ken looking out the window, mournfully, one hand coming up to rest against the glass.

Dave glanced out his side window, to see where Ken was looking. Birds. On the lawn. Pecking at the pieces of bread Dave had been putting out every day.

Huh. It had helped.

#

Their first rest stop was one hour into the trip.

Ken lay stretched out on the backseat, quilt pulled over his head, and only grunted or ignored them if they tried to get his attention. Until he sat up and announced painfully, “I need to pee.”

The gas station they found was grimy, and scary, and Dave wouldn’t let him go in alone. He came in as well, and stood watch at the door.

“I don’t need you to babysit me.” Ken zipped up his pants, and turned to Dave with a glare.

“Not gonna wash your hands?”

The fury on Ken’s face was all the answer he needed.

“Okay. Okay.” He raised his hands. “Never mind. You know best…”

“Starsky, did you look at that sink? I would actually get more dirty if I…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment he slumped. “I don’t want to do this. Why do I have to do this? I want to go home.” His voice cracked, small-sounding and unhappy.

“Aw, Hutch.” This was his cue; he was allowed. He stepped in and put his hands on Ken’s arms, leaning close. “You and me, remember? Home is if we’re together. And we’ve got your aunt too. Everything’s gonna be fine.” He pulled Ken closer, jostling his arms a little, rubbing them up and down, smiling into his face. He was allowed to touch right now; he could see that in Ken’s sad, rather needy expression—the guard he hadn’t let down much recently, or for long. 

At last he nodded. “Okay. Okay. We’ll go to Nevada. I’ll get better. We’ll do homework and be bored in the desert.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dave gave him a gentle slap on the gut and smiled at him. “Come on. Let’s get going!” He hooked an arm around Ken’s waist, and guided him back out to the car.

Part of him wanted to just stay here and hug Ken, remind him of the bond, make it better for him somehow. Ken had been nothing but grumpy, moody, and gloomy since he’d been sick, and somehow even more so since he was most of the way well—at least, as well as he ever seemed to get lately. Dave wished he could fix it.

But they had to go. Places to reach. Deserts to discover.

They walked out to the car together.

#

It took two days of driving, mostly all Dave’s driving, but some from Aunt Hazel, with lots of regular stops, and overnight stays at small hotels along the way before they reached their destination in Nevada. 

The place Mr. Hutchinson booked had a big swimming pool, and, while it wasn’t quite warm enough to swim comfortably, Dave was pretty sure he’d end up going for a dip anyway. The deep, blue water looked awfully inviting. There were plenty of deck chairs. Most of them seemed to be occupied by older folks, sunning themselves, but there was one bored-looking teen girl wearing sunglasses and a bathing suit and a frown. Hm...

He craned his neck, watching her as he drove past, up into the parking lot. 

“Pay attention, Dave!” said Hazel quickly, in a stressed voice, and he stopped the car just before he hit a parked Ford.

Yikes.

From the back seat, Ken watched him with a jaundiced, weary, man-of-the-world air. “I guess we know what you’ll be doing.” He brought a hand up to cover his yawn. He’d been trying to act like he wasn’t tired, but every night, when he fell into a creaky hotel bed, he seemed limp as a ragdoll, and sleep always claimed him before Dave could even think about trying to strike up a conversation.

Not that he had anything particularly he needed to say. He just missed talking to Ken, and thought maybe he’d be more friendly at night. He was sure grouchy enough during the day.

“Let’s go check in, boys.” Hazel climbed out of the car, carrying her purse, wearing the permanently strained look she seemed to have developed after two days of Dave’s driving.

I’m not that bad of a driver… He yanked on the emergency brake, and then hopped out as well.

“We’ll get the bags after we check in. Ken…” She looked at him rather nervously, sitting in the back seat. He got so grumpy if you offered him help when he didn’t need it—and sometimes when he did. “Do you want to wait here?” she asked.

“No. I’m coming.” He hauled himself out of the car like he was an 80-year-old with sore bones. Dave’s hand twitched out, to offer him help. Ken turned that glare on him, and Dave stilled, his hand dropping back to his side.

He felt weird inside, like his heart was sinking lower and lower in his chest. No. I’m not putting up with this. After another moment of watching Ken struggle on his own, Dave stepped in, hooked an arm through his elbow, and hauled him to his feet and away from the car. “You’re comin’ with me, Ken, and no arguments.” This time he ignored the glare, kicked a foot out behind him to shut the door, and supported Ken all the way inside. 

The sun beat down warm, and the air seemed clean and dry. This would be a good place for Ken, whatever he thought of it.

#

Ken stared out the window, his face long, watching Dave. The dark-haired boy dove into the pool repeatedly, stretching and looking tough, strutting for the pretty girl. He was all grins and muscles and energy. Ken rolled away from the window, lay back on his mattress, and sighed.

“Kenny, why don’t you go outside and get some sun.” Aunt Hazel had changed into short sleeves and a lighter skirt, and she paused on the way out the door. “Kenny?”

He turned his head to look up at her, solemn-eyed, hoping his eyes didn’t look wet.

“I don’t want to.”

“We came here for you, Ken. You need the fresh air and sunshine. Come on. Outside. Now.” She swatted his knee. “You’re not allowed to pout—you need to get well.”

Ken hauled himself to his feet with a sigh, and headed out, to sun himself with the old people.

Chapter three

“Hutch.” Dave stopped mid-run to the pool, and made a bee line for Ken. “Hey! How’s it going? I thought you were too tired to…”

His voice trailed off at the frown Ken gave him, and he stopped short of putting a hand on Ken’s arm.

Good. Part of Ken felt maliciously pleased. At least, if he was miserable, Dave didn’t have to look so…glad.

But Dave Starsky didn’t give up. “Need me to fix that chair for you?” He rushed ahead, making for the empty deck chair, scraping it closer to the water’s beautiful, out-of-reach blue.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

The girl was watching Dave now, where she’d been pretending to ignore him earlier. Frank curiosity filled her gaze, as she no doubt tried to piece together what the good-looking muscular guy was doing hanging around a worthless invalid.

Invalid. Even the word—‘in valid.’ Worthless.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.” He turned away from Dave, keeping his head down, and got the chair where it was supposed to be, in line with the old people’s, not near enough to accidentally get splashed, because, of course, invalids weren’t supposed to get wet…

Dave stood back and regarded Ken, his expression consternated. “Boy, you really know how to be an ass, Ken. I’m just trying to help.”

“Yeah—well go help yourself. Off the deep end of the pool.” Ken jutted his chin back towards the water. It might as well have been Dave’s own private pool, for as much as anyone else was using it.

Dave stood staring at him for a moment, his expression dark, unreadable. Then he gave a little nod. “Yeah. See ya around.” He sauntered back to the pool, his steps long and slow, and made a perfect cannonball into the deep end.

Water splashed high, making Ken and the old folks blink and shield their eyes—but it didn’t create a tidal wave. Didn’t do anything at all to change things for them.

#

Dave stroked under the water, holding his breath, feeling mad enough to pop. Treat him like dirt, would he? It’s getting old, Hutchinson! I’m just trying to…to…

He rose to the surface and gulped air. 

He swam to the edge of the pool nearest Ken, grabbed hold of the concrete lip, and glared at Ken. They weren’t on a level. Ken’s cool blue eyes—above the dark circles under his eyes, topped by his mess of unruly pale hair—looked down at him from above. Swathed in jeans and his big blue sweater—was he still cold, even out here?—he didn’t look skinny, but lazy and slim.

Lazy and slim. Not Ken. 

He’d always had the fine, wiry, strength of a colt—slim, handsome, completely unconscious of his inherent grace. Because he occasionally tripped over his own feet, he thought he was clumsy, but there was something deeper than that, something fine and coordinated in his bones, in his very fibers of his being. Dave had seen it sometimes, when he wasn’t thinking about himself, wasn’t worrying about anything, just reaching up to catch a ball, or make a basket, or sometimes running through the snow.

Now, he sat blank and miserable-looking, not even glaring. He looked so cold, his gaze icy, his face expressionless but somehow still unhappy, and displeased with Dave.

What had he done? 

Okay, so he was swimming, when Ken couldn’t. What, was he supposed to just sit on a seat beside him and do nothing? He’d go nuts. 

Then again…Ken was going nuts.

I thought you wouldn’t mind if I had some fun.

He swallowed, suddenly, no longer feeling like swimming, or showing off for the cute girl. Maybe Ken did need him to just sit and not say anything. Just be nearby, as Dave had so often needed from him.

I’m being an ass, aren’t I? Kenny needs me and I’m just swimming…

He got out of the pool, went to go dry himself off.

I’m sorry, Kenny.

#

After glaring at him, Dave got out of the pool. Ken thought he was in a snit, but nope, he just dried off, changed into some raggedy jeans and a tight red t-shirt, and returned. 

He pulled another deck chair out. It scraped loud and annoying over the concrete, Dave biting his lip, edging back, concentrating on pulling it out after him, not even noticing that his butt was waggling a little, or the cute girl had pushed her sunglasses all the way down to watch…

“There.” He got it settled next to Ken’s chair with a loud sigh, and plopped himself into it, stretching out languid as a lizard. He pulled the sunglasses off the top of his head, down onto his eyes, and turned his face skywards. “Catch some rays with ya, Hutch,” he said, stretching his bare arms out to get maximum sun. He closed his eyes.

Ken stared at him a moment. Why had he…? Was it because I glared?

Blinking, frowning a little, he looked up and found the girl watching. She looked rather possessive—upset. Come now. Dave probably hadn’t even talked to her yet. 

She looked away, flouncing her hair. He took her moment of distraction to catalogue her traits. Her dark, gently curled hair cascaded over tanned shoulders, and her blue swimsuit made her body look…particularly curvy. 

And she liked Dave.

Well, Ken knew he wasn’t much to look at right now, but she didn’t have to curl her lip and look away from him like that.

He straightened his back and shoulders, tried to puff his chest out so he’d look a little less pathetic. She was looking again. He smiled a little, and held his breath, puffing his chest out, hoping to look muscular.

She lowered her glasses, and raised one sarcastic eyebrow in his direction. He sat forward, smiling a little. She could notice him, just a little…

Well, maybe not.

With a sarcastic roll of her eyes, she flipped her hair and lay back, turning slightly, moving her head to the side, so she was looking away from them—and making a very striking and lovely profile while she was at it.

Well, what am I doing anyway? Ken lay back, disgusted with himself for being so see-through, for wanting her to notice him, too. Now he wanted to put his head down and hide. He’d just been shot down by Tanning Girl, with nothing more than a sarcastic face.

But she liked Dave…

He glanced over at his friend, who was lying very still and—was that his imagination, or had Dave started to snore? He must’ve been more tired out by driving all the time than he’d imagined.

Ken smiled a little. Dave’s hair was still plastered down, damp from swimming. His cheap t-shirt and his ratty shorts couldn’t hide the well-built young man beneath them. He was stocky, muscular, strong-looking, and smooth-skinned. Long lashes practically touched his cheeks while he slept. And Ken knew from experience that the eyes beneath his lids could be startlingly blue, especially if he were happy or excited about something.

Well, who wouldn’t like him better? 

Ken lay back, resigning himself to it, hoping she wasn’t a harpy. Dave had very little self-control about girls, he’d learned. 

I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a teenage dad, too. 

Ken bit his lip, and began to berate himself again… If he hadn’t… If they’d just… Now she was pregnant (very much so, by this point), and both of them had been sent away to relatives, Jenny so she could have the baby secretly, Ken so he wouldn’t try to marry her. That had been his plan at the time.

Not that she wanted him anymore, anyway. She’d made that abundantly clear in her last letter. And if it were just Jenny…well, relationships ended. That was okay. He’d pretty much resigned himself to that. 

But…the baby. What continually tormented him was the baby.

Would its adoptive parents love and care for it? Would it—

It! He didn’t even know if the baby was a girl or a boy! 

Would the baby grow up thinking his mother and father hadn’t loved him? Ken couldn’t speak for Jenny, but he knew he would love the baby. At least, he wanted to.

Will I ever see him or her? Will he grow up thinking I never loved him? Will he have good adoptive parents? Or will they just want him to perform up to their expectations…?

Ken thought of his own parents. Sometimes, he wondered if children born to poor families didn’t have some sort of advantage. 

Of course, things were harder on many fronts—especially if they couldn’t afford proper food or clothing. But…but maybe they spent more time with their children, to make up for it. Maybe they wouldn’t make their kids feel like they were just there to keep up the Hutchinson—that is, the family name.

He felt his eyelids growing heavy, not from sadness (at least, not completely), but from exhaustion. Maybe he’d just take a nap, too…

#

Dave woke up, stretched, yawned, and rubbed his eyes with his fists. He looked around, and saw the pool, and lots of older people, sunning themselves, sleeping, reading, doing crossword puzzles, or talking to one another. He didn’t see the cute girl anymore.

Ken. He looked over, and saw the blond sleeping, his head tilted sideways, exhausted looking, sleeping as hard as a child. His face looked flushed.

Oops. Maybe he’s not ready for that much sunshine. He’s too pale—don’t want him to burn.

“Hey. Hutch.” He nudged Ken’s sweater-clad elbow. “Wake up, Blintz. Gotta get you inside.” Dave swung his legs around, sat up, and leaned over the sleeping blond. His body blocked some of the sun, shielding the thin boy. 

“Hey. Blintz.” Dave wished he didn’t have to waken Ken. He looked so…peaceful, like a painting or something.

He patted Ken’s chest, smiling, enjoying the fact that he could touch Ken now, without having him squirm and make faces. He’d been so thorny lately—grumpy, rude, irritable, and solitary, ignoring Dave or snapping at him.

Ken moved a little, his face furrowing around the brow. “Mm.” He shifted, squinting his eyes open. “Dave?” He blinked up at him, his brow furrowing, if possible, further.

“Hey.” Dave touched his cheek. “You’re getting hot. Want to go inside before you get sunburnt?”

Ken seemed to consider a moment. “’Kay.” He started to sit up.

Dave moved back, giving him room but watching closely. Ken was just barely awake; the Blintz could be clumsy, even when he was at his best physically. He started towards the building, a little wobbly, but certainly enough under his own steam that Ken didn’t need to irritate Ken by interfering.

Dave spotted the cute girl swishing her way down the walk back towards the pool, wearing a tennis skirt and tight white t-shirt.

“Hey there!” He found his smile widening, his shoulders squaring, his chest puffing out, as if all by themselves. “I’m Dave. What’s your name?”

She cast her cool gaze over him, assessing. (Man, she had pretty eyes…) “Harriet.”

Harriet—she didn’t look like a Harriet, somehow. Maybe a Jean, or a Cindy…

“Okay, uh, hi, Harriet. Maybe I’ll…see you around sometime?” He turned around, walking backwards so he could keep talking to her.

She slowed, tossing her hair, glancing back at him. “Maybe.” Her eyes were smiling. He knew he wasn’t imagining that.

Just then, there was a loud thump—a falling-person thump. Dave whirled around to see Ken sprawled on the ground, a sheepish look on his face, his once-neatly-combed hair falling into his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“S’okay, don’t worry about it,” said Dave, rushing to his side, taking his arm and helping him up. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Ken nodded, keeping his head down. “Sorry.” He gripped Dave’s knee in apology, for interrupting.

Dave helped him to his feet, and brushed his hair back out of his face for him. “No need.” He glanced back, but the girl was gone. Just as well. He had to help Ken inside now. The poor flaming-faced blond had just embarrassed himself in front of a girl. There was nothing Dave could do about that, but he could at least see Ken didn’t fall on his face a second time.

#

“Dave. You want this?” Ken pointed to the rest of the crab cake on his plate. A sizeable portion was unfinished, along with part of his salad, and most of his bread sticks. He was eating his Jell-O—slowly.

“Blintz.” Dave stared at the plate in dismay. “You’re not eating?” His gaze flew to Ken’s face. “Not hungry again?”

For a moment, Ken looked chagrinned. He swallowed, and put the Jell-O cup down, but kept playing with the spoon in it. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “But I just feel full already.”

Dave leaned forward on the restaurant’s table with his elbows. “Nothing you want? Nothing else? We can order again.”

They sat in a small restaurant near the place they were staying. The food was plentiful, well-made, and, if a little expensive, at least filling and healthy. And Dave found it delicious, couldn’t get enough. Why, oh why, couldn’t Kenny eat more?

“Chocolate pudding?” said Dave, spotting a waiter carrying a tray with several bowls of it past.

“Dave…” Ken frowned at him, giving him a look.

“Maybe a snack a little later. We could order something extra, take it back to our rooms and…”

“Dave,” said Hazel warningly.

But it was too late. Ken jumped up and left the table, storming clumsily out of the restaurant. The door slammed behind him. Dave was surprised he hadn’t knocked anything over in his haste, but then, the Blintz usually was less clumsy when he didn’t think about what he was doing. Like with dancing. He was darn good when he didn’t give it too much thought.

Dave jumped up to follow, to try to fix whatever he’d broken. Hazel’s hand closed on his arm. “Let him go, Dave. Just let him go.”

He sat down, and stared at her, wonderingly. “What? You don’t think I should—I dunno, apologize or something?”

A couple of other diners were sneaking peeks at their table, keeping an eye on them, as if to see whether there would be more drama. 

“No, Dave. Let him get it out of his system. If you keep running after him, making a big deal out of this, it won’t help. I think it might make it worse. Yes, he needs to eat—but I think if we just ignore him, he’ll get back to eating what he’s comfortable with, in his own timing. Something’s bothering Ken.”

“I know!” interjected Dave.

Her lips compressed slightly. “Well, we just have to wait until he’s willing to share, or until he gets over it.”

“But—” But…! 

He wanted to protest. It wasn’t fair. He and Ken had always shared things, especially important things. They were on the same team. If something was wrong for Ken, then it was wrong for Dave, too. He had to know what it was, so as to be able to fix it!

“But nothing,” said Hazel. “Can’t you see this method—trying to coddle him, and get him to eat—isn’t working? You need to back off, Dave. Let Ken come to you when he’s ready.”

Dave stared at her, his mouth dropping open.

She was right. As much as he hated it, she was right.

Ken hadn’t been the same lately. Maybe things were changing too much between them. One thing was for certain, Dave’s protective streak wasn’t helping—was maybe even getting out of hand, if it could make the Blintz mad enough to storm out of a restaurant. He was usually one to care a little more what people thought of him than that.

Slowly, Dave pulled his jaw up, closed his mouth. He nodded. “Okay.”

Ken was waiting for them in the car when they got done eating (though Dave hadn’t felt much like eating after that). 

Ken sat in the back seat, slumped on one side of the car, wretchedly, his head resting against the glass.

The restaurant wasn’t far from the hotel, but they hadn’t been sure Kenny was strong enough for a walk, even a medium-length one, so they’d driven. Apparently he hadn’t felt up to walking back on his own, either—or else it hadn’t occurred to him to try.

Ken glanced up as they entered. Then laid his head back against the glass with a little thump.

Dave wanted to reach out, to touch him, and reassure him somehow that everything was okay.

But Hazel was right. That wasn’t helping.

He kept his hands to himself, sitting in the front seat with Hazel on the drive back.

#

He was crying again—Ken. The sound of it squeezed around inside Dave, twisting his guts up like a rope. If Ken knew what it did to him—no, he wouldn’t be able to stop just because of that.

“Kenny. Kenny. Shh.” Dave slipped out of his bed and into Ken’s, and curled himself around the crying blond. “Kenny.” He pulled his arms around him, and petted the top of his silky head. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. It’s okay, Ken. I promise.”

It took a long time, but Ken stopped crying. His breaths stayed shuddering and hitching for even longer.

“Dave,” he mumbled at last, hiccupping and shifting around, trying to roll over. 

Dave released him immediately. Ken turned over slowly to face him, teary-eyed and haunted. He looked terribly unhappy. “I—I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled at last, looking down. “Sorry I cried.”

“Don’t be sorry. Kenny. You’ll—you’ll tell me when you’re ready. Anything you want to talk about. Just—whenever you’re ready, Ken.” He brought a hand up and laid it on Ken’s face, cupping his cheek, and gave Ken a smile he tried to mean. “I love you,” he added. “If that still matters.”

Ken blinked. “Of course it still matters! Th-thanks.”

But he didn’t say it back, and he didn’t share anything else before he rolled over again and fell asleep, his breaths lengthening to peaceful, snoring wobbles of air.

Dave reached out, sadly, and brushed some of his hair back. The blond used to belong to him. Now he was almost like a stranger. 

Belong…maybe that wasn’t the right word. 

Yes it was, though. They’d been a team. Ken and Dave. Belonged to each other, belonged. The first time in so long that Dave had felt like he did belong—anywhere, or to anyone.

#

Ken sat at the edge of the pool, his pant legs rolled up, dabbling his bare feet in the water. Beneath it, Dave was swimming laps. He moved like a fish, powerful through the water, tireless.

Ken dipped his fingers in the water, splashed a little. Not that they could exactly get into a good splashing game, with him being sick.

He sat back, and frowned. What exactly could sick people do? Probably wouldn’t be able to play baseball in the spring. Already he couldn’t read to Dave. 

He watched the curly haired boy study sometimes, sitting on a deck chair. He pulled his knees up and balanced the book on his legs, his face surprisingly serious and still as he studied the pages. It seemed un-Dave-like somehow, to be so serious and still. Sometimes his mouth moved, as he tried to figure out a word. Once in awhile, Ken could even guess which word. If he’d read that part, and knew, he’d say it aloud to help Dave. Dave always looked up with a quick, shocked expression, and then grinned at him.

“Man, Ken. You should start an act in Vegas!” 

Some of Ken’s powerful depression was lifting. He no longer felt as if there’d been no point getting well in the first place if he was just going to get sick again, no longer wondered what the point of living was at all. But he still felt really, really down and worthless much of the time. And he still wasn’t confiding in Dave like he used to.

In a way, he wanted to get back to that. But in another way, he wanted to push Dave further away. Dave was better at everything now. He was faster, stronger—and he kept trying to babysit Ken, instead of just being his friend. It was hard not to push Dave away when he got like that. Ken didn’t want to suffocate, didn’t want to be his pet. 

Ironic, because that was what Dave used to say to him. It hadn’t meant anything to Ken at the time—of course he didn’t see Dave that way; he just wanted to help. But now…

He told himself Dave didn’t see him that way, just wanted to help, too. But inside, he wondered. Dave used to be so…well, needy. He needed lots of reassurance. Now, he seemed…in control. He never seemed to have self-doubts anymore. 

Not that Ken wished them on him. Of course he wanted Dave to be happy, and independent. That was healthy, right? Certainly something he’d have said he was aiming for for both of them, even if they did rely on each other, as well. 

But now, all those thoughts were out the window, and he just stared at Dave sometimes, and wondered what good he was getting out of their partnership at all. Here Dave was, several states away from school, and for what? To babysit Ken. 

There was no other way to put it. Ken tried, but there was no other way. 

Chapter 4 

“Dave.” Ken rolled over, and looked at him across the divide between their beds. 

“Hm?” Obligingly, Dave rolled to face him, too. “What is it, bud?”

“Nothing.” Ken rolled onto his back again, looking at the ceiling with his worried brow furrow. 

“Nothing-what?”

“N-nothing.”

“Don’t stutter. Just tell me, babe.”

“Babe?” Ken cast him an amused glance, smiling a little.

The endearment had worked, surprised him out of his funk. Maybe he’d answer now.

“Gonna tell me—dearie pie?”

Ken laughed aloud, this time. He pulled the pillow out from behind his head and whacked Dave with it. Dave flinched from the blow, and grabbed the pillow, yanked it free from Ken’s hand, and swept it back at his head. Ken gave a yelp of laughter, bringing his hands up to cover his face.

Whack. Whack. Whack. Dave was sitting up now, on the edge of his bed, in control of the situation. He aimed first at Ken’s head, a good blow, then at his middle. Ken flinched and rolled aside.

Dave jumped on the bed, bouncing a little on his knees, and grabbed Ken’s shoulder, rolled him back onto his back, and drew back the pillow, threatening. Ken’s eyes flinched, and he brought his hands up to guard his face, even though he was still smiling, a little ruefully. “Great. Look what I started.”

“Gonna tell me?” said Dave, holding the pillow like a threat. 

“Nope.” Ken grinned at him, a defiant, laughing grin. 

“All right. Fine!” Dave brought the pillow down, hard, on his head, and rubbed it around. He raised it up again quickly, and said, “Had enough?”

Ken struggled to sit up. “Unfair. Completely unfair, David!”

“I know it. Beating up a sicko. What am I thinking?” He took another whack with the pillow, this time at Ken’s midsection.

“Sicko!” His laugh had an enraged sound, and he struggled to finish sitting up. He caught Dave around the waist and shoved, pushing his head against Dave’s shoulder and knocking them both back and to the floor.

They landed with a hard thump—ow—with Ken grinning down at Dave with a shark-toothed smile, very white.

“What was that about being a sicko?”

Dave grinned up at him, and made a face in his direction.

“Oh, you are gonna get it!” Ken dug his fingers in, tickling Dave’s ribs. Dave gave a shout of yelping laughter, and tried to writhe free. It didn’t take much effort; Ken was still pretty weak. In a moment, Dave had sat up and captured his wrists.

They looked at each other, breathing hard, hair messed up, suddenly and momentarily serious.

“You okay, Kenny?” asked Dave. 

“Yeah.” Ken nodded, but his eyes looked a little wary.

Dave gave a slow nod. “Good. That’s all I want to know. You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to.”

“What if I do want to?”

“Then don’t make me beat it out of you with a pillow!” He pulled Ken into a quick hug, tightening his arms around that thin chest. He felt Ken give a little shudder and then relax against him, tentatively.

“Dave.” Ken drew back, frowning a little, his brow wrinkling intensely the way it did when he was supremely worried about something.

“Yeah, Ken. It’s okay. What is it?” Dave rubbed his arms up and down—his thin, wiry arms—and tried to reassure him. Sitting on the floor next to him, he wanted to pull Ken close again, but he didn’t quite dare. He waited.

“Um, I—uh, I think I do need to talk to you, Dave. Maybe…maybe after supper?”

“Sure.” Dave found himself nodding, too hard. “Anytime you’re ready. You talk, and I’ll listen. Unless you need me to talk, too.”

Ken’s mouth relaxed a fraction, into the thinnest possible smile. He gave a nod. “Good. I’d like that.”

Dave hesitated. He wanted to get Ken to follow him out to take a swim, but he didn’t know if the blond was well enough yet. “Wanna sit and soak up some sun—work on that tan of yours?”

“Okay,” said Ken, starting to rise laboriously, using the bed to help him stand.

Dave wrapped his arms around Ken’s waist and lifted. 

“Dave…” grumbled Ken. 

“You’d do the same for me.”

“That’s not it. You’re squeezing too tight.”

“Sorry.” Dave released him immediately and straightened his shirt for him. He sat on the floor, looking up at Ken. 

Ken looked away from his gaze, straightening his shirt further. “Sun, you said?”

“Yeah. That.” Dave hopped up, and they headed out.

#

While they were lying side by side on deck chairs, Ken raised his voice tentatively, in a question.

“Are you sorry?”

“Hm?” Dave turned his head to look at Ken, and wondered, What did I do now? He’d been keeping his mouth shut about Ken’s eating habit the last few days, even though the blond had been feeling awfully skinny to the touch lately.

“I thought I’d talk to you now, after all. A-are you sorry y-you threw your lot in with me?” He looked at Dave, tentatively, more self-conscious than he’d looked for some time.

“What? No, of course not! What are you talkin’ about, Kenny?” He reached across and poked Ken’s arm lightly.

Ken flinched a little from the touch—it hadn’t been that hard, had it?—but didn’t take his eyes off Dave’s face. His brow was furrowed. “I keep getting sick. What if I—what if I’m an invalid for the rest of my life? You’ll be stuck with me.”

“Kenny, you’re being silly. You’re not gonna be an invalid!”

“But if I was.” The brow was furrowing further.

Okay, not the answer he needed. “It would be okay, Kenny. You and me—we’re not gonna change. I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. Remember? Team Starsky and Hutch.”

Kenny’s face sagged. “So I’m dragging you down with me?”

“No! Why you twisting my words, babe?”

Ken looked at him. “Don’t tease me now. I’m trying to be serious. I’m…really worried about this. What if I keep getting sick? What if I die before I’m twenty?”

“You’re not gonna die!” Dave sat up. “You’re not allowed to!”

Ken blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” He reached across and punched Ken on the arm, not too hard. “You’re not allowed to die.”

“Well, I don’t want to, but what if I don’t get well? What if, Dave? It could happen. I’m not supposed to keep getting sick.”

I don’t want to have this conversation. Dave stared at Ken soberly. “You think I don’t worry about that? Every day you were in the hospital, Kenny. Every damn day.” He blinked a couple of times to scare away the tears. “Don’t bring it up again, okay?” 

“Dave.” Ken reached across, with concern, and squeezed his leg. “What’s going on here?” He looked really worried about Dave—for the first time in over a month. That made a change.

“What’s going on with you?” Dave sniffed and swiped at his eyes, speaking gruffly. “What, you think I nag you about food because I’m some kind of calorie cop? I worry about ya.”

“I’m trying to talk to you. That’s all. I don’t really think I’m dying. Sometimes I just worry…” He frowned, and scraped a hand back through his hair.

“Well, don’t.”

“Don’t…?”

“You’re not.” Dave gave him a stern look. “You’re not allowed to die.”

A small smile crept to Ken’s mouth. “Okay, I’m not allowed to die. What’s with this all of the sudden, Dave? You’ve been…I don’t know. Not like this.”

“Like what?!”

“Like…worrying about…” He shrugged, going incoherent all of the sudden. “…stuff.”

“You? You mean worrying about you?”

Ken hesitated, frowning. “Well, yeah. You used to—to rely on me. Now I’m just—just dead weight, the worthless sicko who can’t even carry his own luggage.” 

“You’re not! Don’t talk about yourself like that.” He glared, through his wet and growing wetter gaze. “Don’t you remember what it was like at first? You had to take care of me all the time. I was…such a basket case. And you had to feed me, and without you I’d have been sleeping in a car starving and freezing, probably. You did everything! Now I try to help you out a little while you’re getting well, and you think you’re a worthless sicko?”

Ken flushed, and looked down. “I feel worthless.”

“Don’t! You could never be worthless, Kenny. Even if I had to take care of you forever, if we were totally ‘unequal.’ I couldn’t ever, ever be sorry you’re my buddy.”

“But I’m taking you away from school, and…”

“Tsk! As if I care! I’ve never been to Nevada before. This is great. It’s like…a vacation or something. And you know I’m studying more here with you than I ever would have if you’d left me behind.”

Ken shrugged. “I guess I’m just being…”

“Stupid? A silly, foolish Blintz?”

“Yeah, that.”

“All right. You’re not worthless, and you’re not an imposition. Got that?” Ken nodded shamefacedly, but not as though he quite believed it yet. We’ll work on that.“Anything else buggin’ ya, Blintz?” Dave gentled his voice. He didn’t want to start scolding, as upset as he was to know that Ken had believed those things about himself.

“I…I just don’t want to be…your pet.” He looked up rather guiltily at the words, and shrugged. “I guess I didn’t know what you meant before. Now…I do. I don’t want to rely on you too much.”

Dave snorted. “Well, you sure don’t. You get mad if I try to help you out of a car, for pity’s sake.”

Ken shifted one shoulder in an awkward, apologetic shrug. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay to rely on people, you know—at least sometimes.”

“But you don’t. It’s just me now. You’re—I don’t know how to say it. You’re…so grown up lately. You don’t need me at all anymore.” This last bit he said mumbling, looking down a little.

“That’s not true, and you know it.” Dave scowled at him, more than a little hurt. “I have been more grown up. Guess what? You grow up quick when your best friend is in the hospital for a month, and it’s your fault.”

“Your fau—” Ken boggled at him. “How is it your fault?”

“Because I should’ve known you were sick. That day. When you went to school and I had a party. I should’ve known.”

“Nobody knew. I didn’t. I’m the one that should’ve known, and I didn’t.”

Dave raised a hand, a placating gesture, and frowned. “S’okay, Ken. You don’t have to try to make me feel better. I realize there’s nothing I can do about it. Just…the way it is, Blintz. But I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

Ken was staring at him now. “Dave. It’s not your fault.”

Dave reached over and tweaked his nose. “Don’t get so serious. Said I wasn’t gonna make a big deal out of it.”

But Ken was looking more and more upset. “That’s what this is about? You’re blaming yourself? That’s why you’re trying too hard, and—and just… suffocating me to death with your worry?”

Dave drew back, blinking. “Suffocating you to death? Now I’m suffocating you to death?” He frowned, feeling more hurt than he’d have thought he could by such simple words. “All I’m trying to do is help ya, Blintz. And now I’m doing something wrong?”

“I can’t be your pet!”

“I never said you were!”

They were shouting at each other.

“Boys!” Aunt Hazel’s shocked and stern voice. They both jumped a little, and turned to look at her. One look at her face and they felt even more ashamed. “Go inside. I won’t have you fighting in public. And get ready to go out to eat.”

They’d been eating at that same restaurant every day. The food was really good, and Dave was trying to keep him mouth shut about how little Ken ate.

At these words, though, Ken’s face crumpled. “Don’t make me. I want to stay here.”

“It’s all right,” said Hazel, moving forward, her skirt swishing with a little rustling sound over the sound of the water lapping in the pool. “I think it would be best if we ate at separate tables today. I don’t want you two fighting during the meal.”

“We won’t,” said Dave.

But at the same moment, Ken answered, “Yeah, that might be best.” He sounded really relieved, too.

Dave looked at him, and gave one slow blink. He felt something inside him just drop away, like a broken part falling out of a car, and landing abandoned behind on the road.

#

Dave stared at his food, unable to eat a thing. He thought about New York, and what it would be like this time of year.

He could hitchhike home—or take a bus—or maybe a mixture of both. 

He tried to imagine his mother flinging her arms wide, greeting him with cheerful glee, her darling boy come home again. Or Nicky, so glad to see his big brother his smile wouldn’t be able to widen any further. He’d want to show Dave all around the old neighborhood, probably think he had to introduce him to city life all over again. He’d be only too pleased to have a big brother to look up to again. He’d listen to Dave, too, and stay out of trouble. Maybe Debbie would still be living next door, even.

The cheerfulest pictures he could paint didn’t make him feel any better.

But maybe it was time to go. If he was only hurting Ken. If he wasn’t wanted here anymore.

It’s just a meal, moron, he told himself. He wants to be alone for one meal. It doesn’t mean anything.

#

Ken focused on his salad, working his way grimly through it, and then started on the comfort food of macaroni and cheese. It was very cheesy here, and well-browned in the oven. He thought he might be able to finish it all, if he didn’t have to eat anything else.

It was a relief not to be eating under Dave’s scrutiny, for once. Aunt Hazel wasn’t paying any attention to how much he ate. She sat eating her rabbit and creamed corn and boiled potatoes. How she could eat it, he didn’t know—the potatoes looked like naked baby heads, ugly and cold—and the rabbit…well, Ken wasn’t very hungry for rabbit right now.

He remembered to look around for Dave, see where he’d ended up. Several tables away, Dave wasn’t eating. Just staring at his food, moving his fork around listlessly on his plate. His face looked so closed off and blank—the way he looked when he was absolutely miserable.

Ken swallowed, and looked down at his own food again. Suddenly, he didn’t feel hungry anymore.

After a few minutes, Dave got up and quietly left the restaurant.

Ch 5 

Ken didn’t see the curly head again until he was crawling into bed, exhausted. Dave lay in his own bed in the same room, turned away from Ken, the sheet pulled up tightly to his chin so only his curls remained visible.

Ken hesitated, and then sat down on the edge of Dave’s bed. He reached out, and tentatively began to rub Dave’s head.

Dave lay still, not responding, not stiffening. He was practically breathing distress into the air, and it made Ken wince to feel it, that mix of feeling abandoned and tearful and hurt and angry. It seemed to yammer on constantly in the background, like the hum of an air conditioner.

“I’m sorry,” said Ken. He bit his lip, and then slid the sheet back. It had been a long time, but he could do this, give him a hug, if it might help Dave. He curled awkwardly close, wrapping his arms around the stiff, stocky figure. 

#

“Dave?” Ken’s voice was tentative as a stranger’s. His fingers reached out to touch Dave’s back, gently. “Are you—? What’s…?” 

Ken patted his back lightly. Dave closed his eyes and gnawed his lip, not sure what Ken was asking him, or if he could formulate a reply even if he understood.

“Please?” said Ken, very quietly.

“Please what?” said Dave.

“Don’t—don’t cry.”

Dave sniffed, loudly, and swiped a hand under his nose. “’m not.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ken again. “I don’t know what’s—what’s going on—but don’t shut me out like this, okay?”

“Ken, you’ve been shutting me out for months. Months.” He glared at the wall, not giving in. 

Ken grew still. “A-all right,” he said quietly. “I’ll let you go.” And he withdrew. Dave’s back felt cold, where it had been warm against Ken. 

“Kenny,” said Dave. 

“Yeah?” Ken stilled.

“If you w-want me to go—”

Ken let out a whoosh of air, a huge sigh—it sounded like relief? “What the hell, Dave? Why would I want that?”

“Oh. Good.”

#

“Blondie.”

“Hm?” Ken turned a sleepy gaze on him, not even bothering to make a face over the nickname. 

They were sitting on lawn chairs again, sunning themselves. Dave had a glorious tan by this point, if he did say so himself. Ken’s was deepening quite a lot, as well. It made his teeth look extra white, on the rare occasions when he smiled. The sun had bleached his hair lighter than ever, making him ripe for nicknames.

Ken’s head flopped back and his eyes started to drift shut again. “Don’t call me if you don’t have anything to say.”

“I do, just not…” He cleared his throat. “Just wanted to say, Hutch, what if it was you, not me? I mean…”

Ken raised his head again, giving Dave a skeptical stare, not saying anything.

“I mean…what if I was the one sick, and grumpy, and feeling worthless?”

Ken snorted. “Would never happen. You’re always so damn healthy.”

“Hutch.” Dave reached across and punched him in the arm, not too hard. Ken rubbed it anyway, and glared at him. “I’m serious. What if something happened to me, and you had to take care of me for awhile or—or even forever? Would it make you want to break up the partnership?”

Ken snorted. “No.”

“Then—why do you think it does, for me? Am I that much more of an ass than you?”

“Davey, just let it go, okay? I can’t always change how I feel, and right now I feel pretty damn useless, and like maybe I’ll never be healthy again.”

“But you will. You’re doing better already. The doctor said…”

“Starsk, would you let it go?”

He sounded so weary. Dave shut up. He waited till the silence stretched long and interminable.

“I just don’t want you to feel worthless, Ken,” he said awkwardly, in a low voice. “You know you mean a lot to me, and—and I just hate to have you thinkin’ about yourself that way. I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

Ken snorted sarcastically.

“You are. All the girls notice you, Hutch. You’re tall and blond and you’ve got a pretty face. No, I’m not insulting you. Come on. That’s not an insult.” (Ken had rolled aside with an angry snort.) “Hutch.” He touched the blonde’s shoulder, gently. “I didn’t mean anything rude, honest.”

He left his hand there, and at last, Ken rolled over again and faced him. “I know you didn’t. Guess I get a little sensitive about my looks sometimes.” He made a rueful face.

He was changing the subject, but Dave let him do it. Ken was rarely if ever willing to talk about the way he viewed himself, or thought others did. If this once he brought it up, why not go with it?

“How come, Kenny?”

Ken grimaced, and ran a hand back through his silky hair. He really did have nice hair.

“Seems wrong to be too good-looking,” said Ken, awkwardly. “Like, you can’t trust whether people like you for you or not, or just think you’re… pretty,” he finished awkwardly. He made a face. “Anyway, guys aren’t supposed to be pretty. We’re supposed to be tough-looking, strong—like you are.” He gestured to Dave. “Nobody calls you pretty—or Blondie.” He gave Dave a speaking look.

“I’ll quit,” said Dave instantly. “If you want, I’ll never call you that again. And I hope you know that’s not why I like you.”

Ken sighed. “I know. It’s not even that you mean something bad by it, Starsk, because I know you’re only saying these things to be nice.” He sighed again, and ran his hand back through his hair again. In a second, Dave was going to start touching it, too. “You think you’re being nice when you say I’m good looking, but it just makes me feel more in…insecure.” He looked apologetic, a little shy. “I don’t want to be that guy. I want to…to be smart, or…or good at baseball, or something! Something other than a rich, pretty playboy.”

One side of Dave’s mouth slid up. “Well, you ain’t rich no more, Hutch.” His father had stopped giving him an allowance when he came out to California. “And you’re not exactly a playboy either—Mr. ‘Oh I have to study.’”

Ken grimaced a little, trying not to smile. “You know what I mean. Sometimes I think, what if I hadn’t been rich? What if I hadn’t been tall and…and blond? Would Jenny still have liked me? Would I still be a teenage dad? You don’t know what it’s like to wonder about that stuff so much. It…torments me. Day and night. I wonder about that baby, and how its life is going to turn out. I…I wish sometimes I’d never been born, and then I couldn’t have gotten into this mess.” He looked apologetic, guilty at this admission.

Dave wanted to grab his arm and say “Don’t talk like that! What would I do without you?!” But it obviously hadn’t been easy to admit; Dave just nodded, trying to be accepting.

“You…probably think it’s stupid to worry about it so much. After all, I’m sure you’re right and the b-baby will be better off…” His voice trailed off, and he turned aside, rubbing at his nose.

“Yeah. Sure it will, Ken. Don’t worry so much.” He reached across and gave him a pat on the arm. “And…you know…you ain’t so pretty, really.” He gave Ken a crooked smile. “In fact, you’re the ugliest mug I’ve ever laid eyes on,” said Dave.

Ken’s mouth curved up slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, pardner.” He reached across and gave Dave’s arm a gentle knock with his knuckles.

Dave wished he could wrestle Ken or something, rough him up and out of his bad mood, but he knew it didn’t always work, even when Ken wasn’t weakened and sick. The only thing he could do was talk, and listen—even when it hurt.

#

Dave walked down to the nearest little store for a candy bar, and came back eating it, chatting with Harriet. He walked with one foot on the curb, one foot on the road, crooked that way. Harriet walked beside him, pretty and cool and contained, talking quietly. Once Dave’s voice rose in a shout of laughter. The girl gave a quick, enigmatic smile.

When Dave got back, he handed Ken the rest of his candy bar without thinking. Ken hesitated. 

“Aw, man, I’m sorry.” He withdrew the offer, crumpled the wrapper around it and shoved it into his pocket.

“S’okay, Starsk.” Ken reached out and gripped his arm, smiled up at him. “It’s okay.”

Dave’s smile was relieved. “That mean you want some?”

Ken withdrew his hand. “No.”

#

“Hutch.” Dave rolled over, reaching for someone, for Ken. He felt around, and then squinted at Ken. “Where’d ya go?”

“Had to pee. Would you relax?” Ken padded back to bed and slipped into his side of it again.

Dave moved closer, wrapping an arm around Ken’s chest. “Don’t go ‘way no more,” he mumbled.

“You gettin’ needy again?” Ken rolled around a little, so he could reach up and pet Dave’s hair. But he didn’t sound like he minded. In fact, he sounded rather cheerful about it.

#

“Davey?” Ken opened the front door and peered inside. He wore a bathing suit and a towel wrapped round his middle. He looked extremely self-conscious, cold, and skinny, holding the towel tightly around himself. “Come on. I don’t wanna swim alone.”

“Kenny, just a minute. I’m on the phone.” He covered the mouthpiece.

“Oh.” Ken seemed to sag for a moment. “Calling your girlfriend again? Well, would you hurry up?” He shut the door behind him.

And Dave winced. That had been close. He uncovered the phone again. “Like I was saying…”

He finished his long-distance call quickly, and changed into his swim trunks, then went to keep the blond company. Ken had been allowed to start swimming, but it would probably take him some time to feel comfortable about it, especially as skinny as he’d gotten.

Until then, Dave would egg him on, tease and splash him until he forgot to worry about how he looked and just started having fun.

#

Ken’s father and mother phoned, demanding to know how their son was doing, and whether the climate was doing him any good, or if he needed to go to Hawai’i.

Hazel was able to reassure them that the doctors were noticing improvements — he’d even said it was now safe for Ken to go swimming. “Exercise will help to increase his stamina and lung power,” the doctor had said, removing his cold stethoscope.

Ken sat on the room’s couch, listening nervously to the one-sided conversation as Hazel calmly reassured Ken’s parents. He wished he could’ve talked to them with such calm control. He didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry that Dave wasn’t here. (He was out on a date with Harriet.) On the one hand, it was always nice to have Starsk around—a comforting presence. On the other, he didn’t really want Dave to see him so nervous. And his parents could make him more nervous than almost anything.

“All right. Just a moment.” Hazel covered the phone’s mouthpiece with one hand, and held it out. “They want to talk to you, Kenny.”

Ken gulped, and accepted the phone. 

“Hello?”

“Ken?” Father’s voice. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m f-fine, Father. I’m d-doing better.” He swallowed hard, wishing he could be as coolly calm on the phone as Dave was. He’d been making a lot of calls lately. Apparently he’d made a friend of a nurse—how, or when, he hadn’t shared—and he called her a lot now. He always sounded calm and relaxed on the telephone, a trait Ken envied. Pretend you’re him, he thought. Pretend you’re Starsky…

“That’s fine, Ken.” Was that a little warmth in Dad’s voice—possibly? It was so hard to tell…

“I wanted you to know, you can come home once you’re well. You’ve been away long enough, and perhaps the climate out there isn’t good for you.”

For a moment, Ken couldn’t breathe. He wanted to protest it was no colder than home—than Duluth. He wanted to say he couldn’t leave, not without Dave. He wanted to ask if Dad missed him, if that was why they wanted him back.

“I—I’m not sure I want to.” He gulped. Had he really said that aloud?

Silence on the other end of the phone line. 

“What do you mean, Ken?” This was mother’s voice, abrupt. She must be on another extension.

“I—I—I’m fitting in here now. Finally. I mean in Calif-Cali-California. I don’t…” His voice trailed off. “Please let me stay.”

“No,” said Mr. Hutchinson, his voice ringing with finality. “You’re coming home, and that’s final.” He slammed down the phone with a bang. It made Ken jump, and jerk back from the phone. 

Then his mother’s voice was on the line. “We’ll see you in a month or so. Have your aunt contact us with the travel arrangements. Goodbye, Kenneth.” She, too, hung up.

Ken stared at the phone, blinking hard, tears wetting his view. He hated this; he shouldn’t be crying like a little kid. He shouldn’t feel so demoralized after one brief conversation with his parents.

Hazel gently took the phone from his hands and hung it up. “Not till you’re well, Kenny,” she said gently. “They know you can’t go back yet.” She touched his shoulder, gently. 

He didn’t react, didn’t look at her. “I n-know. Excuse me.” He got up and walked out of the room. 

…out of the building, out of his old life.

He just walked.

He got tired, far more quickly than he would have in the old days, and sat down in the sandy soil to think. He didn’t like what he had to think, but there was nothing else to do.

He stared at the ground, at the sky, at the little lizard walking nearby…picked some grasses, shredded them and threw the seeds, tossed a couple of small stones…and he didn’t cry.

What was there to cry about? All this time, he’d been feeling as though something awful, horrible was wrong, but he’d been the one wrong. 

He’d just been depressed. Now, something was really wrong, and he couldn’t even react.

It was his fault. 

He hadn’t appreciated what he’d had, and now it was time for him to lose it.

Chapter 6

Dave was washing cars for pocket money for his next date, when Aunt Hazel pulled up the car and called to him. “Dave. You need to come back home. We’ve had some bad news.”

He promised to finish the car later, and got in with her, his mind racing. What could be wrong? It wasn’t something about Ken, obviously, or she’d have told him already. But what else could she be worried about? Had something happened to her husband?

She told him, in the car: Ken’s father wanted him to come home.

“Kenny took off for a walk. I’m worried about him.” She glanced over at Dave. “Are you all right?”

He stared at his hands, in his lap. “Yeah. Sure. I knew this day was coming.” His voice sounded gruff, and he blinked several times, rather hard, when he looked out the window, and watched the desert pass him by.

By the time they were back at the room, one of the desert’s quick, quixotic rainstorms had started up. It seemed oddly appropriate—until they learned Ken hadn’t come home yet.

They split up. 

It took awhile to find Ken. Dave was soaked to the skin, and terrified for the sensitive blond by the time he found him, sitting hunched and miserable-looking on a boulder.

“Kenny. Idiot.” Dave hurried up to him, finally feeling like he could breathe again. He put an arm around the soaked, cold shoulders, tugging him close for a moment. “All right. Get you home.”

They would deal with it later, he told himself, as he hauled Ken to his feet, and turned him back towards home.

“Idiot,” he said, and cuffed Ken’s head. Ken didn’t resist, but leaned his head against Dave’s shoulder, trying to walk that way. The rain was finally lessening, but both boys shivered, soaked to the skin.

“Don’t ya know enough to come in out of the rain? You trying to get sick?”

“Maybe,” mumbled Ken, his arm around Dave’s waist as they walked back together, Dave supporting Ken. “Then I can stay longer.”

Hazel met them partway there, and flung a damp blanket over Ken’s shoulders, took his face and looked into his eyes. “Let’s get him home, quickly.”

After that, Dave picked him up and carried him.

He was kinda heavy, to carry that far. Dave put his back into it.

#

“Auntie, I think he’d rather change himself, you know,” said Dave. “Maybe…rather you didn’t see him like this.”

They were undressing Ken, the shivering kid, getting ready to put him into a hot bath.

Her mouth was a tight line. “Frankly, right now, I don’t care what he wants.” She yanked his right sneaker off.

Dave worked on getting his shirt open and off. 

She mumbled, angrily. “This family is just insane. He’d rather make himself sick than go home. They’d rather send him away for months than deal with him… It’ll be a wonder if this boy doesn’t end up dysfunctional or alcoholic.”

Dave had never heard her talk like this before. He glanced at her face. “You, uh, know he has you, don’t ya? Maybe that helps. And me.”

She paused, and looked up at him, then blew a strand of wet hair out of her face, and smiled at him a little. “Good point. I hope it helps. One thing is for certain.” He looked back down at Ken grimly. “His parents are hearing about this. They are not going to ignore the fact that he would rather make himself sick than go back.”

“Don’t do that,” mumbled Ken. “Just wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean t-to cause trouble.” He kept shivering. Dave gave him an awkward couple of pats, wanting to curtail the pitiful apology—or at least put it off for later.

“Okay,” said Hazel. “Into the tub.” 

They managed to get him into the warm water. Dave sat on the edge of the tub, still in his wet clothes and held his hand, because Ken didn’t want to let go.

At length, Hazel came and shooed him away, told him to get dry and changed. She sat on the edge of the tub, and rubbed a hand back over Ken’s head. “Ready to get out?”

“Mm-hm.”

“All right.”

“I can help.” Dave hurried back, yanking on a dry shirt. “I’m here, Ken. Right here.”

“I know, Davey. Sorry. I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He laid his damp head against Dave’s shoulder, while they wrapped him in towels. “Don’t have to baby me,” he mumbled, but he was loose and pliant while Aunt Hazel rubbed his back and shoulders dry briskly.

Eventually he was dry, in pajamas, and they got him tucked into bed with the heat turned high. Dave stood staring at him, hands curling and uncurling at his sides, worrying.

“Davey. I need to talk to you.” Hazel motioned him towards the other room. They sat down at the tiny kitchen table nook.

“I’m worried about him. He should never have stayed out in the rain like that, and I think he only did it so he would get sick again, and maybe he could avoid going home to your parents longer. Am I wrong?” Her eyes looked sober, worried—like she wanted to be wrong.

“No. You’re not.” Dave shook his head. “But…I think I know what’s going on. I mean, what he’s upset about, and I have an idea…” He lowered his voice further.

They sat up, talking about it…until Ken called weakly from the other room.

“It’s a good idea,” said Hazel, nodding to him. “We’ll do it.”

Dave went into the other room and curled up next to Ken, to keep him warm, to promise he was still here.

For now, at least…

#

“Dave.” Ken tapped his fingers on the back of Dave’s hand at the breakfast table. He looked at Dave self-consciously. “I’m not crazy, okay? I just went a little nuts…I was upset, you know? Y-you can tell her I’m okay, okay?”

Dave smiled at him, almost laughing. “Kenny. You’re not nuts. True, that was a nutty thing to do—and don’t do it again—but it’s okay, blintz. You don’t even seem to have got sick—just real cold.” He patted the blonde’s hand. “You’re okay, and that’s the most important thing.”

Ken looked down. “I don’t want to be a baby about this. I know…you said…I said…we’ll…we’ll be separated someday and…and then later there’s the academy, and bein’ cops together. We’ll…but…I don’t want to go back to Duluth. I like it with you and my aunt and uncle. It’s not about…about status, with us here. We’ve got like…like…caring about people…instead of…of…impressing people.” He looked at Dave, his brow wrinkling with worry. “Do you know what I mean?”

“Sure do, Kenny. Sure do. Listen. You have to go to the doctor today, and when he tells us you’re well enough—”

“Don’t wanna be well enough.” He shut his eyes, hard. His eyes squeezed out moisture.

“No no,” said Dave quickly. He reached up and rubbed the blond’s head. “Your aunt and I wanna take you on a little trip.”

“Where?” Ken wrinkled his brow at Dave again.

Dave’s face cracked into a smile. “Kenny, ya gotta quit lookin’ at me like that. You look about twelve, and so worried. You really don’t need to be.” He smiled at Ken across the table.

“Then tell me.” Ken touched his hand, and Dave accepted, holding it.

Dave smiled. “We’re gonna go see your baby.”

#

He told Ken the whole story, over the kitchen table. He’d found the number for the hospital in the town where Jenny was staying with her aunt. It turned out he didn’t need to know where Jenny was staying—just where she was having her baby. And there was only one hospital in the area. He’d used his powers to charm the nurses—one in particular—and told them the sob story about the boy who just wanted to see his baby before it was given away for adoption.

“I told them you wanted to keep it. I told them you wanted to marry the girl, but no one was having any part of it. I told them you got sick from worrying about the kid, and—well, they took pity on us. By the way.” He looked down at the table, drumming his fingers, gnawing his lip, blushing a little. “Can ya tell ‘em you’re my younger friend? They think I’m, uh, older.”

Ken reached across and punched him on the arm—not because he could possibly be irritated with Dave right now, but because he had to do something or burst. “Think you’re old enough to date grown-up nurses, huh?” He was grinning so hard his face hurt, and it was hard to stay seated.

“Kenny.” Dave captured his arm, grinning back at him. “Sit down, wouldja? Anyway, they promised to let you see the baby—and we might even be able to finagle you to see the couple that’s gonna adopt your kid, set your mind at ease. Ken. Ken. What?” He reached out and touched Ken’s arm.

The blond was looking down, tears pooling in his eyes, swallowing hard, unable to meet Dave’s gaze.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Dave tilted his face, trying to get a look at Ken’s.

Ken kept looking down in embarrassment. “I’m—fine,” he croaked. “I just can’t believe you did all this. You’re like—magic. I’m—and I’ve—I’ve been such a jerk to you lately, Starsk.”

“No you haven’t. You’ve been sick, and depressed, and I think under the circumstances you’re doing good.”

“No one else would’ve put up with as much from me,” mumbled Ken. “My parents probably would’ve thought I was faking—just being an ass. Jack would’ve gotten sick of me long ago.”

“Then he’d have missed out. Hey. None of that now, come on. This is somethin’ to be cheerful about. Right?” He smiled at Ken, until he finally smiled back, and nodded sheepishly.

“And we’ll go see your baby as soon as it’s time, soon as we’re sure you’re well enough.” He got up, and walked around the tiny table and put an arm around Ken’s shoulder. “And as for the rest—about your parents, and going back—well, we’ll figure that out, Kenny. Don’t you worry. We’ll figure everything out.”

Ken leaned into his hug, grateful for its warmth, for the sturdiness of Dave to keep him sane, to be the bravest and best and kindest person in his life, the best thing that had ever happened to him. And, for the moment, he allowed himself to believe Dave was right.

#

This time, Ken sat in the front seat, beside Dave. He had a blanket over his legs, to keep him from catching cold, even though he said he didn’t need it, and the two of them kept an eye on him. But Ken sat forward in his seat, excited, bright-eyed, looking out the window. He didn’t talk much, but his eyes looked alive. That, for Dave, was the best part.

He fell asleep only an hour into the trip, though. Dave glanced back at him, and then spoke softly, hoping it wouldn’t wake the tired teen. “Do you think we should stop somewhere? Or is he okay sleeping like that? Might hurt his neck.”

Aunt Hazel reached up from the backseat and stroked the blond boy’s head. He stirred slightly, making a mumbling sound and smacking his lips in his sleep.

“I’ll fold a shirt up behind him. That will help, I think.” She eased back, to do so. “You know, Dave, you’ve really grown up a lot in the last few months. Instead of planning pranks, ditching school, or getting into fights, you’re looking after Ken—almost constantly.” She paused to put the shirt behind Ken’s head. They both breathed more easily when he didn’t wake up from the touch and movement.

She sat back again, with a slight sigh. “I hope it’s not stealing your childhood—but I’m very glad to see you acting more mature, Dave. I think it’s good for the both of you. To be honest, when you first moved in to stay with us, I thought Ken would always be taking care of you. But you’re just as good at taking care of him—maybe better.”

She reached out, then, and laid a hand on Dave’s shoulder. He couldn’t turn around because he was driving, and he didn’t know what to say.

“I hope I haven’t insulted you. I’ve been rather frank—I’m sorry if that came across wrong.”

“No—no,” said Dave. Couldn’t let Ken’s aunt—heck, he thought of her like his aunt, too—feel worried like she’d said the wrong thing. It was just a little bit embarrassing to talk about this subject. “Um. I think Kenny’s best at taking care of people. But, uh, I want to be here, you know, for him, when he needs me.”

He thought of the changes that had taken place these last few months. With Ken’s deep depression, he’d been less emotionally available to reassure Dave about stuff. Sometimes Dave had just needed to suck it up. That was hard; but as he reminded himself a lot, it wasn’t about him anymore. It was about Ken. Keeping Ken alive, and trying to get him back to being himself. That was the important thing. 

And maybe, someday, when that happened, he could breathe easier again, spare time for foolish kid stuff. Confide in Ken when he got an attack of nerves, or those horrible old worthless, scared feelings. 

Right now, Ken was what mattered.

If he didn’t let himself forget that, for even a few minutes, maybe nothing bad would ever happen to Ken again. Maybe he could protect him, and make things normal if he just tried hard enough, stayed vigilant enough.

“Did you say goodbye to Harriet?” inquired Hazel—making Dave wince. Because that had been his next train of thought. It was almost scary to have her interrupt his thoughts like that, with such a relevant question.

“Uh—yeah,” he said awkwardly. “She gave me her number. And address. We can write, if, if we want.” She’d given him a kiss, and tossed her hair back, and pressed the paper into his hand.

He’d been so ashamed, so worried, it was an effort to meet her eyes, to act normal around her. Maybe, if he hadn’t been washing cars so he could afford to take her somewhere nice—maybe, maybe he’d have been there, could’ve kept Ken from wandering off and staying out in the rain.

Sure, it had worked out this time—Ken hadn’t gotten sick. He’d been well enough to fight off the chill, with only some extra babying from Hazel and Dave to keep him safe. Someday soon, the doctors assured them optimistically, he’d be back to full strength, not even the sort of delicate healthiness he had about him now.

The only thing was, Dave didn’t know if he could believe it. Would things ever be the same—where he didn’t have to worry about Ken—could even roughhouse with him, without worrying about hurting him?

The blond boy was still so skinny he looked sickly, although he was getting color back into his cheeks, not to mention the nice tan he’d acquired from playing in the pool with Dave. His hair was the lightest Ken had seen it yet, and really good looking on him next to his tan. The large, haunted expression in his eyes seemed to be lifting since he’d learned he was going to see his baby, too. In all, he was nearly back to being the old Ken—just a skinnier, weaker version of Ken. Ken Lite.

Dave could wrap his arms around him and feel like he was holding a skinny sapling, feel Ken’s heart beating, his lungs filling and emptying, feel his ribs, scrawny and painful through his t-shirt, and he just wanted to pick Ken up or give him a shake, tell him to be sturdy, be strong, promise to get well, to put on some weight, to be strong and sturdy and himself, someone Dave could count on to be there.

But when he thought like that he knew he was being selfish. Did he want Ken to get well just so he’d be here for him? Man, couldn’t he stop thinking about himself for even a minute? 

So he kept his mouth shut, and was gentle with the long, skinny blond, everything from teasing him more kindly than normal, to holding him very carefully when they hugged so he wouldn’t hurt or break him somehow, to secretly worrying about what and how much he ate. (A salad? Why waste room on a salad, when he could’ve been eating a fattening and tasty milkshake?) 

And, of course, he kept his fears to himself, stopped bothering Ken with his worries and self-doubts. That was the hardest thing of all.

Chapter 7

Somehow, Dave worked his magic. He got them into the hospital. The three of them rented a hotel room, and stayed there, by the phone, to wait for the call. 

And it came! The nurse actually called back. 

“What is it? It is a boy, or a girl?” Ken, bouncing on the edge of his bed, jumped up, grabbed Dave’s arm, gave it a shake and looked eagerly into Dave’s face.

“A boy. You’re a papa. It’s a boy,” said Dave, covering the phone’s mouthpiece with one hand and grinning at him.

“Ahha! I knew it! I knew he’d be a boy!” Ken did a little dance around the room, while Aunt Hazel looked on, smiling a little. Then Ken had to excuse himself quickly, to go blow his nose loudly and repeatedly in the bathroom. A boy. He had a boy. Ken Hutchinson was a father.

When he’d calmed down, the three of them piled into the car and headed over to the local county hospital.

Ken was so excited he couldn’t talk without stuttering, couldn’t sit still in the car, bounced on his hands, and kept looking around for the hospital.

“Kenny, we’re almost there. Sit down.” Dave reached over and slapped his knee. “Calm down! You’re gonna wear yourself out.”

Ken turned to glare at him, and then couldn’t help it, burst into another grin. “Ah—y-you’re the best friend ever!” He reached over and tried to give Dave a hug while he was driving.

#

The nurses led them to the hall where they could see the babies through a big glass window. 

The nurses seemed to be monopolizing Dave. Ken was excited, nervous, and wound up, looking around for his baby, until one of the nurses drew him gently aside, and quietly pointed out the baby third from the left.

Ken stared, as the day, the last several months all seemed to come into focus. He felt dizzy, light-headed. Best of all, he could tell. It had a look about it—the hair was light, reddish and wispy. But…but the face… He recognized the Hutchinson face!

He turned and yanked Dave away from the latest nurse. “Davey! Look!” He pointed, poking the glass. “That’s mine! That’s my baby!”

“Where?” Dave craned his neck, searching around.

“There.” Ken tapped the glass. “It even looks like me!” His smile grew large, radiant, tearful. He stared at the little being in the crib. “My baby.”

“Hey, it sure does.” Dave squinted at it. “It’s even got those wrinkle lines on its forehead! Now what does a baby have to be worried about?”

“Everything,” said Ken, his shoulders sagging. “This one—everything.” 

“Hey. Hey. None of that.” Dave hooked a hand around his neck. “None of that. They’re even gonna let you meet the adopting couple, and then you’ll see. There’s nothing to worry about.” He squeezed Ken’s neck, giving him a silent little massage, and then ruffling his hair, messing it up.

Ken reached up and smoothed his hair down, giving Dave a questioning look. “Really?”

“Yeah. C’mon. Over here. Well—whenever you’re ready.” He gave Ken’s arm a pat, and moved tactfully away.

Ken went back to staring through the glass window, hands pressed against the window. 

That’s my baby. That’s my kid. Hiya, fella. How you doing, big guy?

…Will I ever see you again?

At last, sighing, wiping at his eyes, he turned away, and went to find Starsk, and the people who would be his baby’s parents from now on.

#

Ken entered the room quietly. 

Dave stood talking to a couple of well-dressed looking people. The man had gray hair and the woman, well, it was harder to tell with women, but she didn’t look young, either.

“We would rather not—” the man was saying to Dave. Then his eyes went past, to Ken, and he stopped.

The woman moved to stand nearer to him, as if they could protect each other that way.

“Ken Hutchinson?” said the man, speaking for both of them.

Dave stood back a little, to give them room, but he was watching closely, with that protective look he got sometimes, like he was ready to jump in and fight anyone on Ken’s behalf. Ken swallowed, and hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

“Yes. And you are…?” He held out a hand automatically to shake, his ingrained politeness kicking in. After all, he didn’t have anything against these people. He hoped they’d be…good parents, be what he couldn’t be to the kid.

“Laura and Roman Margrave.”

The tall man had a firm handshake. “So you wanted to keep the baby?”

Ken nodded numbly. “That’s correct. They…that wasn’t an option, apparently.” What rights did a 16-year-old father have?

They looked at him, up and down, seemed to be judging his features, perhaps to get a clue to what the kid would look like when he got older.

“You’re good people?” asked Ken.

Laura squeezed her husband’s arm. “We’ve wanted a baby for a long time. We’re very happy to finally be parents.”

“Yeah.” Ken swallowed and nodded. “Well I—I hope you’ll love him, n-not just buy him stuff. Or, you know, ignore him and—and make him feel like h-h-he’s got to be perfect in school or y-you’ll stop loving him.” He looked at them both closely, meeting their gazes, despite the fact that his eyes were suddenly very wet. 

He had the feeling they were seeing him more clearly than he’d perhaps have liked. But he had to know. Would they be good parents? From the quick sympathy he saw in the woman’s eyes, and the surprised, startled look in the man’s, he thought…maybe they would.

“He’s our son, not a status symbol,” said Roman.

Already he was their son. Ken nodded, accepting it.

“Do you have any medical problems we should know about?” asked Laura. 

“I—I just got over pneumonia recently. I’m usually pretty healthy. I play baseball. I…I’m on the debate team. I usually get A’s in school.” He ran his hand back through his hair, wondering what else they might need to know.

“I’m sure that’s not why your parents love you,” said Laura.

Ken raised his hands in a dismissive shrug. “That’s neither here nor there.” They don’t, and it’s none of your business… “Oh, and I’m going to be a policeman when I grow up.”

They raised their eyebrows, expressing polite interest, but as uninterested as if they’d been his parents’ friend and he’d told them his favorite color. “Well, best of luck.” The man shook his hand again, and the woman smiled at him. They all seemed to have run out of things to say.

“Well, I’ll—thanks for—for…” He ducked his head a little, swallowed. “…letting me meet you.” He turned to leave the room. Dave quietly melted out ahead of him, quiet and supportive, and just there.

“One more thing.” Ken stopped with one hand on the door. “Can…can I ask what you’re gonna name him?”

“John Michael.”

“Oh.” Ken nodded. “My middle name’s Jonathan. That’s—kind of a—a nice coincidence.” He gave them another smile—a fake, tearful smile, but one he tried to mean. He hurried from the room.

He felt relieved, and scared, and trembley inside. What if they weren’t as good as they planned to be? What if they ended up as terrible parents—or changed their minds, and wanted to send him back, only there was nowhere good to send back kids you adopted and—and—

“Hey.” Dave caught his arm and drew him aside, pressing him gently back towards the wall. “You’re okay. Calm down. I can tell. They’re nice folks. They won’t beat him or treat him like dirt.”

“But…but will they…?” He couldn’t finish.

“Kid, if they already love him, of course they will.”

“Even when he…?”

“Disappoints them? Of course. They’d better. They were willing to meet you, and I think that’s a good sign. Shows they’re willing to go the extra mile. So buck up. Do you wanna see Jenny, if they’ll let you?”

Ken stared at him, then shook his head hard, his chest pounding painfully at the very thought.

Me, and Jenny…and the letter she sent… I never want to see her again. It hurts too much.

“Okay. Okay, kiddo.” Dave gave him a warm slap on the arm, and drew him back down the hall. “See the kid once more, and then let’s get going. You’ve had a long day.” His hand was warm in the middle of Ken’s back, comforting.

In the end, they took pictures. Several of them. One of the nurses had thoughtfully brought her camera, and promised to send the pertaining shots when they were developed. (She also snapped a couple of Dave, with his aw-shucks look, and his biggest, girl-catching grin.)

When they left the hospital, Dave was practically bouncing, his walk at his cockiest level yet. “Man, nurses are great, Hutch.”

Ken blew his nose again, thinking of the wispy-haired baby, and the parents who had better—they’d just BETTER—love him.

#

“Kenny.” Hazel and Dave faced him in the morning, awfully formal-looking over breakfast. 

“Y-yes?” He looked nervously back and forth. Their grim, sympathetic expressions did nothing to allay his concern. “J-just tell me.” He sat down abruptly. “Is something wrong with the b-baby?”

“No, Kenny! Nothin’ like that!” Dave moved forward and slipped his arms around Ken, and pressed his face against the top of Ken’s head. “Just time for you to go back to Duluth, that’s all.”

“W-what?!” He turned to glare at Dave, who stepped back, raising his hands.

“Hey—wasn’t my idea. The doc said—”

“The doc said, the doc said—! Why wasn’t I informed?”

“That’s my doing,” said Hazel quietly. “I thought you were stressed enough about the baby. Dave wanted to tell you, but I insisted we wait.” She sighed. “I’ll be sorry to see you go, of course, but your parents want you home, and I can’t blame them. They are probably worried about you, and miss you a lot.”

Ken snorted.

“Besides that, your father has been paying for this whole trip. It wouldn’t exactly be right, if we kept dragging it out after you were already well.”

Dave laid a hand on his shoulder. “The car’s packed, bucko. We gotta drive to your to Duluth. Head out today, might make it in only a few days…” He sounded grim, quiet, and sympathetic—but not sympathetic enough.

Ken glared at him again, hating the fact that he was starting to cry again and Dave was standing there dry-eyed and terribly grown up about the whole thing. “Keeping secrets now, Davey?”

“Sorry, Ken.” Dave sat down opposite Ken, taking his hand. “Look, Ollie, we knew the time would come. You and me—we’ll still be cops together someday. Just maybe not be together every single day in the meantime.” He gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and a shake, and gave him a mature smile. “You’ll get used to it. Won’t even miss me at all once you’ve been back a few days, I’ll bet.”

“Shut up.” Ken turned away, and fumbled for his handkerchief.

Dave pressed one into his hand. “I’ll let ya go for a coupla minutes. You think about it, and you’ll see. We gotta go back.” He gave him a pat on the back and then got up and left the room.

Hazel stood watching Ken for a minute—Ken with his leaky eyes and his miserable face and his throat so tight it was killing him—and then she, too, left.

Darn Dave anyway. Why did he have to be so grown-up all of the sudden? Ken blew his nose savagely, and dashed at his teary eyes. But… but… why… why did he have to go back? Why?

He got up and left the building at a run. He had to get away, think—maybe cry a little on his own. The walls seemed to press too close, like they were watching him too.

#

Dave saw him take off running all-out, the familiar long-legged run of the blond. No. No way. Not again, Hutch! He took off running after him, beating the ground with his feet, pumping his arms like windmills, throwing his chest out and his head back. This was one race he wasn’t going to lose.

“Ken!”

The blonde’s pace faltered and he looked back. He ground to a halt. “Davey?” His voice was incredulous, like he actually couldn’t believe Dave would follow him.

“Don’t run away!” He reached Ken and gave him a hard punch on the arm, then bent over, panting for breath.

“You need to q-quit smoking, and then y-you’ll keep up better.” Ken sounded like he’d been crying. Of course he had, poor guy. He’d just found out—unlike Dave. He’d had plenty of time to have his sorrow privately.

Dave straightened himself and glared at Ken. “If you think you’re getting sick again, just so you can postpone…!”

“No.” Ken shook his head. “I wasn’t. Just needed some space.” He regarded Dave uncertainly. “You—didn’t…change your mind, then?”

Dave snorted. “How can I? It’s not up to me when you go back.”

“We could run away together. Just—head out.” He raised a hand, shooting out towards the horizon, like a rocket ship taking off. His brow wrinkled uncertainly with the question as he looked at Dave.

“And leave your aunt here to get home on her own, bozo? Yeah, that’d really work. Leave your folks to worry, leave Hazel in the ditch, and you and me just go gallivantin’ off like pirates or something! Think, Ken.” He punched him again, the other arm this time.

Ken rubbed it, not taking his eyes off Dave. They were starting to pool again. “But I don’t want to go back.”

“Well, you’re not a little kid. Sometimes you gotta do things you don’t want.”

Ken’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Kids have to, too.” He flopped on the sand, putting his head in his hands. He sniffed once, loudly, as if trying not to cry.

“I know. Hey.” Dave flopped gladly beside him, and put a hand on his back. “I’ll miss you too, bucko. Just…don’t get so worked up about this, okay? I don’t want you getting sick again.” He gave the back a couple of pats, and then began to rub it with a steady, soothing movement. He felt Ken’s jagged breaths growing easier under the touch, and kept it up.

“Y-you’re still m-my Dave?”

“I’ll always be your Dave. And when we’re a little older, we’ll be cops together and everything. Partners.”

“P-partners?” He craned his neck to look back at Dave uncertainly.

“Of course, bozo. You think I’d trust anyone else to watch your sorry ass?”

In spite of himself, Ken’s face cracked into a little smile. “Same here.” He reached out and tapped Dave’s shoulder with his knuckles. Then he turned away quickly, and blew his nose on Dave’s handkerchief.

#

As cheerful as Ken was, the road trip might’ve been a funeral procession. Dave tried to jolly him out of it, teasing him, knocking him around a little with some not-too-rough roughhousing, or just talking to him.

Sometimes Ken was needy and clingy, other times withdrawn and silent. On the final leg of the trip, he lay on the front seat, his head resting on Dave’s thigh while he drove. When he could spare a hand, Dave rested it lightly on his head. 

Ken hadn’t spoken for the last hundred miles. Hazel had fallen asleep in the back seat. Dave’s eyes felt grimy at the edges, weary and tired from all this driving.

He pulled over at the next McDonalds, quietly, set the brake, and looked down at Ken. He almost didn’t want to wake the blond, or Aunt Hazel. He supposed he could just sit here, but…

His hand trailed lightly the soft, wispy light hair, then cupped down to Ken’s neck. Eyelashes fluttered, and Ken looked up at him, sleepy, trusting—and still sad. 

Dave smiled at him. “Hey, bud. I gotta pee. You wanna let me up?”

“Mm. Sorry, Dave,” he mumbled, pulling himself to a sitting position, grimacing, and rubbing his eyes. 

Chapter 8

Their next rest stop wasn’t until they reached Ken’s hometown. “Stop here,” he said abruptly, pointing ahead to a little diner.

They had coffee, sat awkwardly packed in a small booth. Ken had dark circles under his eyes, a miserable expression, and some of the messiest hair Dave had seen on him yet. He sat playing with his coffee cup, moving it around on the saucer, looking down at it.

Dave leaned over and gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. “C’mon, Sea Scout. You’ll feel better when we get it over with. You’ll be glad to see ‘em.” He shooed Ken out of the seat, and towards the door, giving him a swat on the rear when he hesitated. At the touch, Ken jumped and picked up speed, sending a glare back to Dave, to let him know it had not gone unremarked.

Dave just grinned a wicked grin at him. “Move it, Blondie, or you’ll get another.”

Ken’s eyes narrowed, but he moved it.

#

Dave had been depressingly calm and cheerful this whole trip, with only an occasional solemn note in his eyes to let Ken know it was hard for him, too—at least a little bit.

Ken remembered last night, their last hotel room. He and Dave had curled together in the single bed, as usual. It saved money and let them be together a little longer. He’d awakened in the middle of the night, cold, to find the covers had slipped and uncovered his feet. But Dave’s head lay resting, pillowed, on his chest. Ken had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, misery welling up inside him, choking him on tears he couldn’t cry unless he wanted to disturb Dave.

He’d arranged the blanket the best he could using only his feet, getting himself mostly covered up again. And he’d eventually gone back to sleep, to the comforting sound of Dave’s deep, steady breathing. That would be gone soon enough.

They pulled up outside his house, and Dave set the parking brake. “Okay, Sea Scout. Announce yourself,” he said in an undertone. Ken cast him a despairing look, but Dave just sat behind the wheel, looking at him. “Go on.”

“Not unless you come, too.”

Dave sighed, rolled his eyes, and got out. Hazel followed the two boys more slowly up the path.

Ken walked as close to Dave as he dared, close enough to nudge him accidentally every step or so, but not trip him.

He rang the doorbell—the familiar doorbell, the familiar lawn, and house and—and—

A new maid answered. He wasn’t surprised. His mother and father were constantly changing maids. They were never good enough to suit them, and always easy to find fault with. The fault soon became the whole maid, and sure enough, she’d be replaced within a couple of months. Ken and Lana had learned not to get attached.

“Yes? Hello?” She squinted at them through thick glasses. Oh boy—that was a ‘flaw’ there. She’d probably be out the door in another week, at most. Unless she was a magical cook—then she might last almost a whole month.

“This is Ken Hutchinson. He’s come home.” Dave hooked an arm through Ken’s, and, in spite of everything, his arm reassured Ken and made his insides feel warmer, calmer.

All of them were out. Lana was staying with friends, Mother was working with her women’s group and some fundraising benefit ball, and Father was working late.

The three of them came inside, and Ken tried to make them comfortable. It was hard to do, when he felt so uncomfortable himself. He ranged the room, pacing, noting the new décor his mother was using, the throw pillows and paintings—that one looked expensive. Probably cost them an arm and a leg. But, of course, it was worth it if it showed the Hutchinsons off.

“Kenny, sit down,” said Hazel. “You’ll tire yourself.”

Ken snorted, ran a hand back through his hair, and opened his mouth to come up with some reply. But Dave curtailed it, got up from his seat on the couch, scooped Ken up around the waist and pulled him down to sit beside him. “There, now sit still. Quit squirming. You’re not a little kid!” He slapped Ken’s thigh, kind of hard.

“No hitting. Hey.” He reached over and shook Dave’s arm. “Let me show you my room, huh?”

“Sure. Um…Auntie? Will you be okay for a couple minutes?”

She nodded, gave the boys a slightly strained smile. She was sitting with her hands in her lap. This was hard for her, too.

Ken went galumphing up the stairs, Dave following more quietly, reaching up to tickle his side on the way.

“Not while I’m walking, bozo! You want me to trip?”

“Yes.” They reached the top and Dave stuck his face fiercely close, giving him the squinty-eyed, intense Dave stare. Ken laughed a little, raising his hands. Dave gave him a little shove. “Relax, wouldja? They can’t eat you.”

Ken laughed nervously. “You’d be surprised.”

“What, they had a third kid, only they ate him? C’mon, Ollie. Show me your room.” Dave took his arm and steered him down the hallway.

“O-okay. H-here it is.” He pointed to the third door, that familiar, sterile, huge room, suddenly feeling nervous about what Dave would think. Would he think Ken was stuck-up, a rich kid with too much where Dave had always had too little?

“Stuttering again, Sea Scout?” Dave pushed the door open with a casual look at Ken and one hand gripping his elbow. Then he looked around inside, and stopped, and blinked. “Wow. That’s a big room.” Sure enough, his accent was getting stronger.

“It’s j-just a room.”

Dave ranged around it, examining all the sports equipment, the closet stuffed with clothes, the music table with its beautiful record player and piles of neatly stacked records, the expensive desk, the book-stuffed shelves, the weights in the corner, the helmet for his dune buggy. He picked this up, then put it down again. “Looks like you’ll be real busy, Sea Scout.”

“I—I—” said Ken miserably. “I’m just going to miss y-you.”

“And start stuttering again, apparently. Quit it!” Dave gave Ken a push and then climbed onto the bed, bouncing a little, testing it. “Nice.”

“Thanks.” Ken sat down and looked at him mournfully. Was this really goodbye?

“Hey.” Dave knocked him gently on the chin with his knuckles, and smiled lightly. “Chin up, kid.”

Ken crinkled his nose and made a face, then turned away to blink the wetness from his eyes.

Dave patted his chest once, and sat down beside him—very still. “You’ll be okay?” he asked quietly.

“I—I don’t know,” said Ken, instantly miserable again at the reminder that Dave was leaving, really leaving.

“You’ll be okay,” said Dave. He edged closer, leaning his head against Ken’s shoulder, sitting very still and holding onto his arm. It was familiar, this—Dave used to do this when he was feeling particularly lost, particularly alone and nervous. Ken almost welcomed that, if it meant he wasn’t the only one dreading saying goodbye. 

But after a moment, Dave released him, gave him a nice, normal smile, a pat on his arm, and got up as if nothing were wrong.

Ken swallowed, watching him. He should be glad, if it wasn’t as hard for Dave. He should be.

#

Ken sat watching him, his face mournful and longing. His eyes had seemed larger in his expressive face, ever since he’d been sick. They seemed even larger today—

If Dave looked at them too long, he’d break down, and then they both would, and it would be bad, really bad.

So he looked around, made light-hearted remarks about some of Ken’s records, asked if he had enough clothes, Sea Scout, or did he sometimes dress an army?

Ken got up and joined him. He stood by the records, sliding them back and forth to see the titles. At last he pulled one out. “M-maybe you could take this,” he said at last, highly self-conscious, holding out “Sea Cruise.”

Dave cast him a quick look, and a smile. “You are a fan!”

“Was.” Ken smiled, a little sheepishly. “I want you to have it.”

Dave’s fingers closed around it. Then he let it go. No. He wasn’t going to take stuff from Ken, no sir. Friendship wasn’t about stuff—and Ken didn’t need to get into that mode. “Nah. I can listen to it on the radio plenty. Thanks, though.”

He gave Ken a quick pat on the arm, and ranged away, to examine the bookshelves. “Shakespeare. Do you really read this stuff?” He jerked a thumb at Romeo and Juliet.

Ken flushed. “Not anymore.” He pulled the book off the shelf, and tore its cover off.

Dave stared at him, blinked. “What the heck, Hutch?”

“It’s a load of bullocks. Love isn’t like that. Dying for each other—all that crap.” With a frown twisting his mouth, he tossed the book away, under his bed.

“I think it probably is, when it’s real.” 

Ken looked at him a little confusedly, and then he looked down, and scuffed his foot on the floor, kicking the book further under his bed. “Maybe. How will I ever know if it’s real, though?”

She’s hurt him a lot, thought Dave, with a sudden burst of protective pity. He looked down, too, to conceal his feelings. Seemed like he’d been doing a lot of that lately. “Maybe it’s something you grow into. Something you learn to recognize along the way.”

Ken snorted. He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind, shook his head and walked away. He went to the closet, searched among it for several moments, and came back with a leather jacket. He held it out. “Try this on?” His eyes pleaded, as if it were important to him.

Dave scowled. “I’m not takin’ your stuff!”

“Please?”

Well, what could he say to that face? He slipped it on over his shirt, shrugged into it, tugged the sleeves into place, and turned to Ken. “Well? How do I look?”

A grin had spread across Ken’s face, satisfied. He nodded. “Keep it. Works on you.”

Dave slipped it off again. “I said…I’m not takin’ your stuff.” He cast Ken a slightly reproving glance. “Besides, what would your parents think if I came down from here carryin’ off a bunch of your stuff? Think I’m some kind of con-artist, here just for your belongings.”

Ken looked unhappy, but he nodded, looking down at the floor.

A car pulled up outside, and Ken jumped as if he’d been shot. “My mom’s home.”

“Your aunt’ll explain. Hey. Calm down, okay?” Dave touched his arm.

Then Ken was in his arms, face buried against his shoulder, hugging him tightly, surprisingly strongly. “Dave. It’ll be okay, won’t it? You’ll…we’ll…everything will be okay, won’t it?”

“Yeah, Ken. Everything.” Dave stroked a hand back wearily over his friend’s head, wondering how he could promise something he so badly needed promised to him. 

And he had no idea if his words were true.

#

Dave and Hazel stayed for supper. It was a quiet affair. Ken wanted his parents to like Dave, but they barely seemed to notice him, and seemed bored by his presence, even irritated.

They even seemed bored with Hazel, the quiet wife of Mr. Hutchinson’s boring (and not rich) brother.

The conversation was general, stilted. Dave looked out of place and uncomfortable at the dining room table, with its long table, white cloth napkins and tablecloth, and the many silver forks. There were candles, too. He wished it could’ve been less formal, and his family more likable.

Dave kept silent, and paid attention to what everyone was eating with. He managed to use the soup spoon for soup by keeping an eye on Ken.

They just acted like he wasn’t here. It seemed wrong to Ken. Then again, if they’d known how close the boys were, how much Dave meant to Ken, they’d probably had thought there was something wrong with Ken, and been obnoxious in other ways.

After the meal, Father was polite enough to shake Dave’s hand, though. He said goodbye to him, and thank you for the help driving and bringing Ken home. At least he was polite.

Dave nodded. “All right. We’ll be goin’. I just gotta bring Ken’s stuff inside. Don’t forget he’s gotta take it easy till you’re sure he’s back to a hundred percent.”

Mr. Hutchinson frowned at receiving this instruction from a kid. “I’m sure we’ll take care of our son adequately.”

Dave’s face looked skeptical at this, but he said nothing, just went and got the bags.

“Wait, I’ll help.” Ken started after him. 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Mother snapped, putting a hand on Ken’s chest to stop him. “You’re not to tire yourself.”

Ken stared at her, surprised. It was the first time she’d touched him in a long time—longer even than he’d been gone. So he was forced to stand there, and watch Dave fetch his bags like he was hired help. Dave gave him a wink, and set the bags down inside the house. 

Then Hazel and Dave were leaving, they were really leaving. Ken followed them out in a daze, to say goodbye. His parents came out on the front step, to watch—perhaps to see that he didn’t slip in the car and run away, too.

#

Saying goodbye was the hardest. Dave had to be brave, and smile, and promise he wouldn’t miss him too much, no, he’d be fine, he’d do well on his schoolwork, study hard—

When Ken’s mouth went all soft and wobbly and his eyes very wet trying not to cry, it almost broke Dave’s heart. He felt no better about this than Ken did, but…but he was keeping it inside better, wary of the others, of Ken breaking down the whole way—in front of his family no less.

Ken gripped his arm. “You’ll miss me a little, won’t you?” His eyes begged for something, some admission…

“Sure I will, Kenny. I’ll miss you lots.” He patted Ken’s arms, gruffly. “Don’t cry, okay? Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Holding onto his arm, Ken looked down, his head sagging, nodding miserably. “Sorry,” he choked.

“Kenny,” said Dave. Don’t cry. I won’t go. Please be okay. He couldn’t say any of it. He couldn’t get soapy now or he’d never be able to leave; someone would have to drag him away, holding onto Ken’s ankles and sobbing. It was either go now, or not at all. 

“I’ve got to go. Your auntie’s waiting for me. G’luck. G’bye.” He wanted to impulsively lean forward and give Ken a smack of a kiss on the forehead, but, even if Ken had understood, no one else would’ve. He could already feel their eyes on the two, judging them, judging Ken for getting emotional, for being so broken as he said goodbye. 

So Dave just put his hand on Ken’s side, and waited until he met his eyes. Dave smiled, tried his best to smile with his eyes, his whole face, and then gave Ken a reassuring nod. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you this summer.” He gave Ken a wink, a light slap on the side, and another nod. Then he turned and walked towards the car. 

He looked back twice, his throat hurting so much it felt like he would probably die any second. Each time, Ken was still standing there, watching him, waiting, looking like his dog had just died.

Dave made it into the car, and kept his head down, and cleared his throat, and rubbed at his nose a few times. Hazel had the good grace not to talk to him for the first few minutes of their trip back. She reached over and gave his arm a gentle squeeze, but that was all, and he was glad; anything more would have completely undone him.

He just had the horrible feeling he was saying goodbye to everything—the end of a chapter in his life—to the best friend he’d ever made. When he next saw Ken (if he ever did), it wouldn’t be the same. It would all be different, and horrible…

He should’ve taken the jacket—or something. Something to remember Ken by. His dear, lost friend.

#

Ken watched them go, watched Dave drive the little car competently away. His heart broke a little more the further they traveled. They were leaving him, really leaving him.

Maybe Dave didn’t need him anymore, if he could say goodbye that easily.

He waited until they were long out of sight, and then started back up the path to the house—not home, surely, not anymore. His shoulders were bowed, and he kept his head down, hoping to hide his tears. 

Not that it mattered anymore. Nothing, did, really. 

It was over, that was all.

Chapter 9

Things got worse after that for Dave, too.

He and Hazel had just assumed that he’d continue living with Ken’s aunt and uncle. But Mr. Hutchinson had other thoughts on the subject. 

Dave heard them arguing about it, one night. Arguing over him—

“But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Dave’s hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. He hated that it was true; and that she knew.

“I know you liked the boys. But Dave isn’t even your nephew. And I’ve had enough of the boys filling this house—demanding all your time and attention. What’s happening to our marriage, when you’d rather spend time taking care of other people’s children than…than just being here with me? I missed you on that trip—that needlessly long trip, I might add. Is this just a way for you to escape our marriage? Is that what’s really going on?”

“No—no! It’s not like that at all. I had no idea you felt that way…”

Dave fingered the wall a moment, and then slipped away. He didn’t stay to hear the rest of the argument. He started packing. 

The next day, at breakfast he announced cheerfully that he was going to stay with another friend—oh, hadn’t he told them? Yeah, a football buddy. Plenty of room. Sorry he forgot to tell them; he’d been planning it; it must’ve just slipped his mind.

Yeah, he’d be fine. No, he didn’t need anything. Thanks for everything, folks. See ya.

If Hazel didn’t quite believe him, she was willing to be convinced—and didn’t ask too many questions with her husband being…so obviously, if silently, glad.

Dave shouldered his bags, before she seemed quite ready to see him go, and headed out. No way was he going to be the cause of marriage trouble between them. Besides, he didn’t want to stay anywhere he wasn’t wanted.

Maybe he never had been. They’d just tolerated him because he was Ken’s friend, because Ken seemed to need the company to keep him from getting in a blue funk. He’d been useful, but never really wanted.

That wasn’t new; he didn’t know why it should hurt. He determined not to let it.

That night, he slept in his car, parked at the back of a field, away from everyone. It was all right, but a little uncomfortable. It felt odd to be homeless again. He did have a little money saved up, and he was going to start working more hours now that Ken wasn’t here. Might as well keep busy.

Before the week was out, he’d rented himself a room at the junky little hotel, and decorated it with his sparse belongings. Funny how your life could be boiled down to what you could carry with you in a car.

His car looked comfortable parked out front, though, and he didn’t have to worry about being arrested for vagrancy. (Wouldn’t it be a kick in the pants if Blaine were the one to arrest him, on top of everything else?)

No, he was content. He went to school, he went to work, and to practice, and managed to fill his days full enough that he didn’t have to be ‘home’ much. He felt a little pathetic, when he joined a photography club at school, just so he wouldn’t have to be alone. 

He tried to make friends, and found he wasn’t bad at it. Nothing like Ken—someone he really could rely on—but it was less lonely, having people to talk with, telling jokes, getting people to smile.

Not that he’d ever be Mr. Popularity. He still couldn’t stand most of the guys on his team. They just rubbed him the wrong way, so superior, like they’d never had problems in their lives, and couldn’t believe in being friends as close as he and Ken had been—no, still were!—just because they’d never had it themselves. Not that he was fighting with them or anything; the coach had cracked down on that. They all got along pretty well at practice and on the field. Teamwork, you know.

He ate what he could. Crackers and peanut butter he stocked in his room. Pretzels. Candy bars. Whatever he could afford. He tried to eat one real meal a day. Sometimes junk food—like a burger at McDonalds—but more often whatever he could afford at a little diner or the local Chinese restaurant. There, they’d sell him lots of extra white rice, for only a little bit more, and he could sometimes eat for a day or two from one large meal. That was the best deal, usually. 

But sometimes he got so hungry for the Italian food he used to get back in New York, from the restaurant his grandma lived over. And all the time, a lot, he missed Aunt Hazel’s cooking. That felt like home, with her and Ken and…and everything like home, everything he missed so much.

He wrote to Ken, twice. He couldn’t afford to call, not if he wanted to be able to afford living as he did. Oh, he supposed he could’ve skipped a meal or two—but he knew what would happen then. He’d never be able to keep up the fiction that everything was fine over the phone. At the first sound of Ken’s voice, he’d probably break down and start sobbing how they kicked him out. That would just be a needless worry for Ken. Why upset him about something that couldn’t be helped, anyway? Not like he could come back and rescue Dave all over again. Anyway, once should be enough.

He wrote, instead. In letters, it was easier. He kept it light, cheerful—he was doing fine, missed Ken reading homework to him, but he was managing, and the team was doing well. That sort of thing. 

He told Ken the same fiction he’d told Aunt Hazel—although he made it a little more convincing, inserting detail for Ken’s benefit. One of the fellows on the team, Ted McDermott, a guy Dave didn’t argue with so much, got along with okay—he’d taken Starsk in. Had extra room, was a decent guy. Paying rent and everything, just like it was a hotel…

But he put his return address as his job, so it would be sure to reach him. It was one thing to lie, another thing altogether to miss Ken’s letter.

#

“Auntie? Can I talk to Dave?”

“I’m sorry, Ken. He’s not here anymore.”

She sounded guilty; why did she sound guilty? “Did…did something happen? He’s okay, isn’t he?”

She let out her breath. “Oh, yes. He went to stay with another friend. A football buddy. He said he’d be fine…?” Her voice held a question.

Ken blinked. Of course. He really probably got along better with his sports pals than he ever would with two older people who weren’t even really his relatives. Why should Ken feel bereft about it? It wasn’t as if Dave was leaving him…

“Well, uh, if you hear from him—let him know I want his phone number, okay? I can call long-distance better than he can. My folks said it’s okay.” He scratched at his hair, grimacing, wishing he could see her face. Maybe then this silence wouldn’t feel so strange, so uncomfortable.

“I’ll—tell him, Kenny. It’s good to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.”

“Thanks. You too.” He didn’t know how to say it, or even if he should try, but in a way, she’d felt more like a his mother for those few short months he’d spent in her home than his own mother did sometimes. “I…hope I’ll get to see you again sometime.”

“You too, Kenny.” Was it his imagination, or did she sound relieved? “And…” She hesitated.

“Yes?”

“Nothing. I’ll pass Davey on to your request for his phone number. Maybe I can give him a little extra money if he needs help phoning you. Thank you for calling, Ken. It’s good to hear your voice again. It’s been lonely here…”

The call ended, and Ken hung up feeling oddly unfulfilled. A weird bitter, sour feeling filled his gut. Dave had gone to his own kind, after all. Not that Ken could mind that; good for him. But…but if only he’d…waited a bit.

It was stupid—selfish—idiotic—but now he couldn’t help wondering if Dave had been longing to get away from him for a long time. After all, he’d been basically nothing but a glorified babysitter for some time now. He never seemed to need anything from their relationship; he’d only been giving, and for so long, too. Maybe he’d just needed out.

That would explain his…almost casual goodbye. 

Of course, Ken had been hoping—thinking—wishing—that it was only his nervousness, or some feeling of needing to keep it together that had held him back from saying a more emotional goodbye—from even saying ‘I miss you’ like he meant it.

Why couldn’t Dave miss Ken, a little, too? Did he have to move on so quickly?

It was awful being the only one who felt emotional about this, the one to get tearful, to miss him more…

#

Dave saw Aunt Hazel pull up after practice, in the car she never seemed comfortable driving. He went over to her right away, glad to see her familiar face, but a little worried, too. Something hadn’t happened to Ken, had it? He couldn’t exactly call Dave to let him know firsthand.

“Hello, Dave. Ken asked me to be sure you had his number, and to please let him know yours. He wants to call you. Apparently the long-distance charges are no trouble. I have a little extra money here, if you’d like to call him now?”

Dave shook his head. “I’ll write.” Had she really come by just for that? 

She looked at his face, seemed to be weighing something, judging something. “I insist. Here you go.” She pressed a handful of coins into his palm. Dave felt himself going red, and mumbled his thanks, shoving them into his pocket. He didn’t want to take her money. Now he felt like a heel. And, now he’d have to call Hutch. 

And oh, he did want to call…

“Are you…are you eating all right?” She looked into his eyes.

“Sure. They feed me,” he croaked, forcing himself to meet her gaze. ‘They’ did—all the different restaurant employees, after he paid.

“Well, I made you some of your favorite meatloaf sandwiches, in case you’re hungry.” She reached for a brown sack, and pressed it into his hand, gave him a little pat. “Come by and see me sometime, all right? I miss you. If you can spare the time,” she added doubtfully, glancing past him to the other boys and their practice on the field.

“Sure. I will. Thanks.” He smiled at her, what felt like the first genuine smile he’d had all day, and accepted the bag, strangely heartened. Maybe she had cared about him, if she still wanted to feed him and see him sometimes…

He ate well that night, and, finally, braved the call Ken from the phone outside his hotel. It was an old fashioned thing, a dilapidated, grungy payphone with numbers, names, and rude things carved, inked, and penciled all over it. The phone book was half torn out, but he didn’t need it; he had Ken’s number.

He stacked the coins Hazel had given him up in a pile, and waited while the phone rang.

“Hello?” A heavily accented voice answered the phone. “Who is calling, please?”

From somewhere close by, an irritated voice, “You forgot to say whose household this is, Rita.” Mrs. Hutchinson. This maid wouldn’t last long. Dave tried to imagine what she looked like, that it overcame her heavy accent in the list of maid qualifications for the picky Hutchinsons. Wow; she must be gorgeous.

“Howdy, Rita. Could you put Ken on the phone? This is Dave calling.”

He twisted the cord round his finger, then realized he was doing it and stopped; that thing could probably give him a dozen diseases just by touching it.

“One moment please. I will get Kenny.” Kenny—whoo! She was familiar with him!

“I’ll take that, if you please.” Mrs. Hutchinson’s voice came on the line. “Hello? Who is this?”

Dave swallowed, and told her his name. “Ken said I should call him.” He felt about six years old; he could picture her frown clearly.

“Of course.” Her voice held something like distain—if she could be bothered to put that much feeling into her words, bother to think about him at all. “Ah, here you are, Ken.” 

There was a scrabbling like cloth bumping the receiver, a heavily breathing sound and then Ken’s agitated voice. “Hello? Dave? Are you still—s-still there?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve started stuttering again.” It felt easy, and so right, talking to him again. The moment he heard that familiar voice, he couldn’t stop grinning. He twisted the cord around his finger again, forgetting all about germs. “Hey cowboy. Missed me?”

“You idiot. Why didn’t you call? Give me your number quick, before you ‘forget.’”

Dave read it off the phone booth to him. “Listen, you can’t just call me anytime, though. I’m only here a few hours.” He gave him a few times it would be all right to call. “The rest of the time I’m working or at practice or photography club. What do you think of that, huh?”

“Good for you,” said Ken, sounding for a moment uncertain. “Do you like it?”

Oh, Kenny, that’s not what I meant… He’d wanted Ken to be proud of him, not feel like he wasn’t needed anymore.

“Hey, yeah, but I didn’t mean—”

“No, that’s cool, Dave. Really. I’m glad. You any good?”

Dave took a deep, steadying breath. This wasn’t going how he’d hoped, somehow. Ken sounding distant and politely glad for him.

“Yeah. I’ll send you a snapshot sometime.”

“How do you afford it?” Still polite, Kenny-boy. “At my school, you have to buy your own camera.”

“Oh, well, here they let us use the ones from the school—we just hafta pay for any extra film we use, and if we damage anything. I haven’t. Ken.”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.”

Silence on the line.

‘Do you still love me?’ wasn’t exactly something you could say over the phone—especially to another guy. A guy who’s face you couldn’t see. Who had gone back to his mansion and his rich friends and probably didn’t miss Dave at all—

“Please insert more money,” said the operator’s dreadfully impersonal voice. Dave jumped.

“Yeah. Um, listen, Ken—maybe I should just go.”

“Yeah, sure. No, if you need to— But…but Dave…you’re…you’re not really staying with a friend, are you? I mean, you’re calling from a—a phone booth. Do you…is everything all…?”

“It’s fine, Ken. I’m okay. I’ll call you back, okay?”

“No, I’ll call. You stay right there and I’ll call.”

There was the loud buzz of an empty line. Dave blinked, and stood with the receiver in his hand. Then he hung up. Ken couldn’t call again, if he didn’t.

He stood there, waiting, but the phone never rang.

Ken couldn’t have forgotten, could he? Not so quickly. Had Dave read the number incorrectly? He went over it in his mind, looking at the number again, and he couldn’t honestly say that he had.

His throat hurt now, and he wished—

He scuffed one foot on the ground, debating whether to call back tonight or not. If Ken didn’t want to talk to him…

Or maybe he got called away for dinner. Yeah. That could be it.

He went back to his room quiet and subdued, but with one ear half cocked all night to hear the ringing of a telephone. 

He didn’t.

#

“Give it back! That has his number on it!”

“Don’t care. You shouldn’t have written it on the back of my paper doll.” She stuck her tongue out.

“Please! I don’t have it. I need it—he’s waiting for me to call back. J-just let me write it d-down.” Great, now even his little sister could get him stuttering?

His mother was watching so he couldn’t just grab it, either. Not that he wanted to take things from a little girl; he should be able to talk her out of it. Or maybe remember the phone number—he’d just written it down. There had been a five and a seven in it, hadn’t there?

He took a deep, calming breath. “Just let me write it down, and I’ll give it right—”

“It’s my doll! You’re not getting her all filthy with your boy germs.”

“Boy germs?! Boys don’t have any special germs…!”

She glared at him, murder in her cold little eyes. “Then how’d you get Jenny pregnant?”

“Lana! That’s enough!” Mother came and took her arm, tugged her away. “I won’t have you repeating such nonsense!” She looked around nervously, as thought afraid the maid had heard. “Where did you hear that story?”

“Not telling!” She jerked free and ran to the fire. Tore her doll’s head off and threw both pieces into the fire.

“No!” Ken yelped and leaped forward—too late. 

She stuck her tongue out. “Hadda kill the boy germs.”

Mother took her away, and Ken heard her crying from a spanking later. 

He checked the fire, but it was too late. Dave’s number was gone. After a few hopeless moments of angst, Ken got his homework and sat by the phone all evening until bedtime. But Dave never called back.

#

Ken scrawled a quick postcard explaining what had happened and mailed it first thing. But he hoped Dave would call back before then.

Ken stayed by the phone as much as possible, with a little tablet and pencil by his side all the time. He picked up the phone before anyone else could. His father scolded him, told him to get out of the house and go play ball. “Why aren’t you off doing something with Jack? He’s your friend here.”

Mother, for once, was there and backing Father up. “Yes, Ken, go play with your friend. We can take a message if that boy calls.”

‘That boy.’ Dave was ‘that boy.’

“All—all right.” He guessed he was getting a little cramped sitting in the same position for so long. “Only—don’t forget, please. I promised him I’d call, and now I don’t have his number.”

#

Dave called back the next night. He didn’t feel very secure about it, but he had to know what happened, and if it were an accident.

He got the cold voice of Ken’s mother on the line, informing him that Ken was out, and could she take a message.

“Uh—no, I guess…that is, I’ll call back.” He swallowed, hard, and started to hang up.

“Oh, he asked you for your number. There was a mishap with it.”

“Oh—oh! Thank you.” Grinning too hard, Dave read the number off to her, made her repeat it back, thanked her and hung up.

He sat in the phone booth, hugging his knees, waiting for Ken to call him.

But an hour—no, two hours—passed slowly, so slowly…and he didn’t hear anything. So he got up, and trudged back inside, and yes, he cried that night. Cried himself to sleep.

Good old Kenny. I’m glad he’s happy. I’m glad he’s getting his life back. But why can’t he miss me more? Why can’t he call?

The next day he got Ken’s postcard, and he wrote back, with the number in large black double- and triple-outlined numbers, emblazed too huge to miss. It had been another mishap. Or perhaps Ken’s mother had forgotten to (or chosen not to??) pass the message along.

And he waited, every night, for Ken to call.

Every day it hurt when he didn’t, and, even when he resigned himself to the lack of phone calls, it still hurt. It got down in his gut and beat on him, making the days feel heavier, the nights longer, the loneliness and pain worse than ever. 

But he adjusted, because Dave could adjust to anything, live through anything. He’d learned this about himself young. 

You might think you couldn’t survive things, but you could. Even when you didn’t want to.

Chapter 10

It was terrible not hearing from Dave. He’d written the note, he’d waited for Dave to call, but he never had. No note. No call. Nothing. Why couldn’t he stay in contact? He couldn’t be that mad about a little mix-up, a mistake Ken had tried so hard to fix?

After about a week of waiting, and hurting, and hoping, he went out with Jack or his other friends almost every night, to try to forget. Maybe they weren’t like Dave, but they were better than nothing. He tried to be like himself again…

But Dave wasn’t writing back to his letters now, wasn’t replying at all. Ken knew he had made a terrible mistake. He’d slipped a ten dollar bill into one letter with a note to get himself a good meal, or use it to help cover his rent (wherever he was staying!!). After that, Dave never wrote back.

Surely he couldn’t be that insulted? But Ken remembered how he’d reacted to being offered the jacket and the record, and inwardly, he cringed. 

He wrote to apologize, but Dave never wrote back. Never wrote back at all.

Ken survived. He held the hope that Dave would forgive him someday, and renew contact. For now, there was nothing he could do about it but wait. He’d held out the olive branch—tried to, anyway. All he could do was wait—and lie awake at night and stew over his mistakes, everything he’d done wrong, and the fact that Dave must hate him now. 

Dave. He missed him so much. He almost didn’t seem real anymore. You couldn’t have someone so special in your life for real, surely. Someone who could make him laugh, understood what he meant almost without words, who could make him feel so alive and warm and safe and HOME. He should’ve known it was all too good to be true. Sometimes he felt like he’d dreamed Dave, after all. Nothing but a dream, a new imaginary friend. The kind that could get you thrown into a mental hospital because you weren’t five years old anymore. He should know better.

But he knew Dave was real. That almost made it worse. That he could just walk away from their friendship; just reject Ken because he’d made a couple of mistakes. Theyhad been mistakes. He’d never have lost the number on purpose, never have insulted Dave intentionally.

At school, Ken walked the halls with a fake smile he tried to make real.

But inside, he so often felt a fierce and terrible loneliness. And it wasn’t fair, to anyone, that he should feel that way. Here he was, surrounded by people who cared about him (or, he sometimes wondered, only pretended to?), and he was distracted, preoccupied, mournful. 

He made an effort to pull himself out of it, to laugh and joke with Jack, to be involved with school and with his fellow students, and everyone. He even tried to make his peace with his little sister.

She seemed awfully angry with him for leaving. Had anyone told her Mother and Father sent him away—he didn’t just decide to leave?

They’d never been extremely close, but she was his cute little sister, and he’d always fixed her toys or dolls when she asked, if he could. She used to like him. Their ages were widely different, their schedules packed, but there had always been a warmth before, a kind of camaraderie of the shared trenches of this home, especially if their parents were fighting. Then sometimes she’d come into his room, just hang out. They’d turn the music loud, and pretend they couldn’t hear the fighting.

And she’d dance her little dances, snapping her fingers and gyrating around his room while he read. She had more coordination in her ten-year-old body than he’d ever have. Since Dave had taught him to dance, perhaps they both could now—but they hadn’t reached that point yet. She was just starting to quit pretending he didn’t exist anymore.

One evening she unbent enough to sit next to him on the couch while they were watching TV. It was just a stupid western, so he didn’t mind at all when she interrupted.

“When are you gonna play your guitar again?”

“Huh—uh…” His voice died away. He didn’t want to push her away, if she was finally warming up to him again, but… “I haven’t played it since, uh, since Jenny…” He looked down.

“Since she got pregnant?”

“Since…she stopped liking me. And left. And then…when I had to leave too.” He bit his lip, wishing he hadn’t shared so much, not with his little sister. He’d gotten vulnerable, with Dave, used to sharing personal stuff he used to keep locked away, and maybe it was better that way.

He had to get better at this, at wearing the Hutchinson mask again.

But Lana just stared at him, watching his face. And then suddenly she leaned over and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Almost too surprised to react, Ken blinked. Then gently he closed his arms around her, and closed his eyes, so glad of the hug, of having her love again. At least someone accepted him for who he was…

#

Dave lay staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head. He missed Ken. He missed him so much it hurt. He wanted to be near Ken again, just see him again, and know he was all right…

No. That was a lie. He wanted to be near Ken for himself, too. When he was with him, the world felt okay. Now, everything seemed vaguely off. Jokes were half as funny, because he had no one to share them with, no one who properly understood. Success was less satisfying—not that he’d had a lot of that, either.

He rolled over, hating the weakness of his eyes, getting wet on their own. At least he could still go through the motions. He could do school, and football, and—and work… everything, but it wasn’t the same. When he was alone, he couldn’t keep up the pretense. He missed Ken too much, more than anybody should miss anyone else.

He’d belonged in Dave’s life so much that having him missing was like having part of himself missing. Anytime Dave felt happy, and forgot for a minute about Ken being gone—he’d think, “I’ve got to tell that to Ken,” and then he’d remember, and it was like a hammer coming down on his life. When he woke up, he knew something was wrong, but sometimes it took him almost five minutes to remember what, to remember why everything felt wrong. Ken was gone. He was just—gone—back to his life, his family, his perfect self, without Dave holding him back.

And he hated himself for his weakness, for sometimes thinking about what Ken must’ve thought of him, how much of a burden Dave must’ve been, if he couldn’t even stand to be alone for a few weeks. If Ken couldn’t even stand to contact him.

Sad as Ken had been to say goodbye, Dave wondered if their friendship hadn’t meant more to Dave, after all. 

The places his father’s death had left empty—his uncle’s cruelty had cemented shut—Ken had somehow gotten inside. Broken open the coffin, turned it into a real heart, and filled it up. He’d filled the empty places in Dave’s heart.

Ken wasn’t a father or an uncle—not at all—he wasn’t a little brother constantly in trouble like Nicky, either. He was—he was just Hutch. 

And as much as Dave didn’t want him to be, he was sometimes all that mattered, and life was just incomplete without him.

#

Dave woke up with the idea fully formed in his head. 

He approached his coach that day, after practice. “Coach. I need ya to be honest with me. Am I any good?”

The older man stared at him, blinked. Dave was not one for such frank talk most of the time—nor was he someone who needed puffed up (at least that he admitted).

“You’re a good defensive end. That what you want to hear? What’s this about, boy?”

“Well, coach, I’m—thinking of moving east, with some of my relatives.”

The coach nodded. Dave’s uncle’s attack, and subsequent jail time (a couple of months, and some parole time), had been in the news. That had been hard at first—although to be honest, Dave had been so worried about Ken’s health at the time that the whispers, looks, and occasional teasing about his uncle had mostly slid off his shoulders, leaving barely a mark.

“So I need to know. Am I throwing away my chances of college if I leave the team—or am I just not good enough to get a scholarship anyway, so why bother worryin’ about it?”

He didn’t know if that came out right; the coach was staring at him.

“You’re a good player, Dave. You know that.” Slowly, he shook his head. “But not good enough anybody’s been scouting you—or is likely to.”

Dave looked down, swallowed, and nodded. “What I thought. Well, thanks, Coach—” He stuck a hand out impulsively, to shake the older man’s hand. 

Coach accepted his hand, gave it a shake. Dave was a little surprised to realize it felt good. He usually didn’t like grown men even getting near enough to reach him. But how long had it been since someone had touched him not-roughly and on purpose, and not just slammed him in the mud during practice?

“Thanks for bein’ honest with me.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out.

Well, time to transfer. He wondered what sort of team they had in Duluth—or if he’d ever be good enough to play.

#

His car broke down twice, on the trip. He fixed it with wire, duct tape, and spit and crossed fingers, coaxed it the rest of the way carefully, and, by the end, was nearly running on fumes.

He’d been in bigger cities, but Duluth was strange to him. Everywhere he looked, he thought, This is Kenny’s town. I wonder what he thought of this? I wonder if he went to that movie theater?

He rented himself the cheapest room he could find that rented by the night. He ran across a few that rented by the hour—they weren’t quite right for him.

Even in the place he rented, the nightly place, the walls had peeling paper, and cardboard-thin walls. He could hear a couple of people who also hadn’t wanted the hour place, on the other side of his wall. He plastered the thin pillow over his ears, and hoped this would all be worth it. Aside from the fact that his car had almost died, he knew no one here, no one but Ken. 

And there was a very real possibility that Ken wouldn’t have time for him anymore.And then I’ll look ten kinds of a fool. 

But…well…he had to try.

#

It was surprisingly easy to lie his way into school. No, his uncle couldn’t come today. He’d just sign himself up, if that was all right. 

It only took a couple of days—terrible days, of waiting around, trying to tinker his car back to health, looking for part-time work, and listening to other people’s business through the thin walls of his room—before he was ready for school. He found himself surprisingly nervous that first day, walking down the unfamiliar hall.

At least at home, he knew everyone. Here he was nobody. It was a surprisingly small, strange feeling. He felt the glances people gave him. Then they shoved past, dismissing him. At home, he’d been a football player—nobody ignored those. 

The kids were surprisingly well-dressed here, too. Maybe Ken wasn’t the only rich kid. He noticed a lot of slacks, fancy shoes, expensive-looking shirts (and haircuts) and a really nice class of jackets. Maybe he should’ve taken Ken up on it when he offered—No. Despite the fact that he’d sometimes have given almost anything to have something to remind him of Ken, he still thought he’d done the right thing saying no.

Dave found his first class all right. He didn’t speak to anyone, and the teacher forgot to introduce him. Looking for his next class was harder—everything was so new, and hurried—but he found it eventually.

He made it through the day, somehow—and without one sight of Ken. By the time school was letting he was as exhausted as if it had been two days packed into one. On top of everything else, they were studying different stuff here, and he felt like he’d been thrown in at the deep end of the pond. He hadn’t quite dared ask any questions, but the History class on ancient Greece—well, it had been Greek to him.

Then, as he was finally leaving—wondering if transferring here hadn’t been the stupidest mistake of his life—he saw him.

Ken. Hutch. He was walking down the hall, laughing and chatting with a couple of other teenagers, all of whom had the look of casual ease that wealth seemed to bring—as if they never had to worry about anything, were always well-groomed and good-looking, perfect in their perfect clothes. Probably understood Greek, too.

Dave felt scruffier and more out of place than ever. But—but Ken looked good. Dave swallowed. His light-haired friend had put on a few pounds; his smile looked—well, it looked like he meant it. He seemed happy, confident, and well-groomed. 

Well—good for him. I’m glad he’s doing better.

Ken had been the one inconsolable, but now he was the one who’d adjusted—who was fine.

Dave should go. He should just go now, before Ken saw him, and it got awkward.

#

“Davey?”

Ken’s heart was doing the jitterbug. He ran forward, stopped just short of touching the leaving boy’s arm. It couldn’t be—could it? Ken was probably making a regular fool of himself— “Dave?”

The boy turned around—slowly, almost reluctantly. “Yeah, Ken?” He gave Ken a rather pained smile. He looked strained—tired—hungry. Ken blinked at the sight.

But all the same, Ken started grinning, and couldn’t stop. “Dave, what are you doing here?” He reached out and punched him lightly on the arm. It was so good to see him—to touch him—just to make sure he was real—really real, and really here!

Dave’s eyes darted past him to the others, who were gathering around now. “Came out here to live with my uncle,” he deadpanned.

Ah, that familiar voice—the dear old mumbled accent. Ken wanted to gather him up in a big hug and just hang onto him. But he restrained himself, and not just because of the public setting. Something was wrong… Was Dave still angry with him? He looked so unhappy. 

“Who’s your friend?” said Michael, with a barely concealed superiority.

“Uh—Dave, these are my friends Janice, Michael, and you know Jack.” 

Jack nodded to Dave, his eyes faintly amused. What was funny about Dave? He looked a little shell-shocked, true, and out of place, and perhaps a little scruffier than Ken remembered. But, oh, so good. 

“Hello. Pleased t’meetcha. Jack.” Dave nodded at each of the three in turn. Then he turned back to Ken. “I should go. Hey, I’ll see ya around.” Dave gave him a rather pained nod, raised a hand in farewell, and turned to go.

“Hey—wait up!” He turned quickly to his friends. “Uh, see you later. I’ve got to catch up with Dave.” Without waiting for an answer, he hurried down the hall after Davey, his own dear Davey.

#

“Dave?” He caught up while Dave was getting into his car—his wonderful, dreadful, decrepit old car! It made Ken smile to see it again. Ken hurried up to it. “Hey, I don’t suppose you can drive me home?”

“You don’t have a car?” Dave glanced at him, still glum-looking, and shy and curious. When he said ‘car,’ it sounded like ‘cah.’

Ken smiled at the familiar accent. “Uh, nope. It just hasn’t been a priority. Well, they might buy me one next birthday. Last year I asked to go to the beach, and…” He was chattering, wasn’t he? He smiled at Ken. “So will you drop me off?”

Dave nodded at him. “Get in.” He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. It took on the third try.

“Think you might replace her soon?” Ken grinned at him from the passenger’s seat, that wonderful, familiar, safe spot.

Dave turned to glare at him. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“Hey—nothing.” He raised his hand apologetically. “I just wondered—”

“Well, don’t.”

“Sorry.” He sat silent now, wondering if he was unwelcome, hoping he wouldn’t say something else wrong.

“Okay,” said Dave. “How ‘bout you give me directions to your home?”

“Sure. Um, turn here…” He pointed out the directions as needed, awkwardly.

Dave said quietly, “Good to see ya lookin’ so well, Ken.”

“Thanks. Uh—I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah?” Dave sounded disbelieving—not quite snorting at him or telling him that was a load of crap, but sounding like he might be thinking it.

“I have,” said Ken, stung by the implication. “You could’ve called—or written back.”

“I could’ve called or written?!” Dave slammed his palm against the steering wheel and sent Ken a dirty look. “I s’p’sifically left my number! She said she’d pass it along. And then later I sent a postcard, too, and you never wrote back, never called. I wrote, I called twice, but you never called and never wrote but the once!”

“Uh—who did you leave the number with?” asked Ken, suddenly very quiet and calm. 

Dave glanced at his face. “Your mom. Why?”

Ken drummed his fingers on the door. “I suppose she didn’t want us staying in contact. I never received any of your letters, or your phone n-number.”

Dave looked at him, and then reached across and squeezed his thigh. “Don’t stutter. ‘S’all right,” he said gruffly.

Ken swallowed, hard, and nodded. At least Dave was talking to him now—not to mention touching him. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Ahem. Yeah, just—uh—missed you. Did you—uh—are you still mad about the money?” He risked a glance at Dave’s face.

Dave sent a puzzled glance his way. “What money?”

Ken found himself breathing a sigh of relief. “Ah, you never got it! You never got any of my letters!” He found he was grinning. “I thought you were mad…”

“What money?” repeated Dave.

Ken sent him an apologetic look, raised a hand. “Ah, I sent you ten dollars in a letter. Thought it would help with your rent. You don’t suppose your boss…”

Dave nodded grimly, his mouth tightening. “I do at that. And after he took it, then he had to take the rest of the letters you sent, in case you sent more money, or mentioned it—” His jaw tightened, and his hand tightened on the wheel. “People are such shits sometimes.”

Ken blinked. “Uh—yeah, I g-guess so. Listen, you—you came down here. I mean, w-what a-about football? And school? Huh?” He touched Dave’s arm. “What happened, huh? First living on your own, and then coming out h-here. Are you— Is everything…?”

“Your uncle didn’t want me in the house,” said Dave abruptly. “I overheard. Apparently I was wreckin’ their marriage or something.” He shrugged. “So—I rented a room.”

“Why didn’t you stay with the Blaines? You know they’d have helped you.”

“Didn’t wanna impose,” mumbled Dave, his jaw tightening. “Besides—don’t you think I’m askin’ enough of him already—gettin’ us into the academy and all, when we’re older?” He glanced at Ken, wearing his stubborn look.

“Don’t you think they might’ve worried about you?” asked Ken, gently as he could, but still feeling like he was scolding. “I mean…” He raised his hands. “They do care about you. Almost like family by this point.”

Dave shook his head. “Nobody’s family. You are. Nobody else.”

“And your mom and brother.”

Dave snorted. “Yeah, my mom. She’d rather take my uncle’s side than…” He shook his head. “And my little brother’s always busy when I want to talk to him. I think he’s gettin’ in trouble, and could I prevent it even if I was there? Which I can’t go back, because there’s some people who would—” He glanced at Ken, must’ve seen the worry on his face. “Well, never mind about that, Kenny.”

Dave’s fingers drummed the wheel. “Anyway, I figured, so why not rent a room out here? Figured you didn’t have time to call or write, but maybe if I was here…” he mumbled, keeping his eyes strictly forward, on the road.

Ken put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, can—can you stop somewhere? Let’s get something to eat. There’s a good restaurant—just there.” He pointed.

Dave cast him an amused look. “Thought you didn’t like stopping for after school snacks?”

“Davey, I’m better now. I eat more now.”

Dave’s quick, sweet smile made him happy inside. “I’m glad, Ken. Real glad.” He reached across and gripped the back of Ken’s neck, gave him a little, affectionate shake. Ken tolerated it, grinning. Dave was back in his life again. It seemed so right.

Chapter 11

Dave watched Ken eat. It was such a satisfying sight—better than eating something himself, even.

Ken saw him watching, and his brow wrinkled with a rueful smile. “Eat, bucko!”

“Yes, Mama.” Dave stuck his tongue out, and then bit into his burger.

Ken sure seemed glad to see him. Maybe he was just feeling better, not feeling better because Dave was gone.

Dave wiped his mouth. “Hutch, why don’t ya really have a car?”

Ken swallowed his mouthful before answering. “It’s—you know, all my friends do, and—if I’m going somewhere with Jack, or with you—well, you always want to drive.” He shrugged. “What’s the point of having a car? There are buses, there are people willing to drive me, and my parents let me borrow one of their cars if I really need it. Just don’t see the point.”

Dave stared at him. “Kenny, ya got no ambition. Don’t you want to impress the girls with a fancy, shiny new car, all your own?”

Ken snorted. “What, like you do?”

Dave kicked him under the table. “Someday, buddy! In the mean time—I’m still more mobile than you, so don’t you forget it!”

Ken shrugged. “Like I said, some guys always have to drive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dave’s eyes narrowed. 

“I mean, if I had a car—if we both did—would you be willing to just sit back and be a passenger in my car—no matter how great it was? No? I didn’t think so.” He sat back and began chewing on his salad with the self-satisfied expression of someone who knew he’d won the argument.

Dave leaned forward. “Hutch, if you get a car, I promise I’ll let you drive—sometimes.”

Ken rolled his eyes. “You’re just like Jack.”

“What?!” Dave kicked him under the table again. Ken jerked. “Don’t compare me to him!”

Ken was smirking a little, wearing his slightly evil expression. “You are, though. You both always have to drive—you’re nuts about speed, think your cars are amazing—and you’ll both let me drive once in a blue moon, for a ‘special treat,’ if you think I need to for some reason.” He smirked, shaking his head. “Never saw it before. You’re just like Jack.”

“Say that again, and you’re gonna feel my knuckles in your teeth. Comparin’ me to that stuck up, rich fatcat—”

“Oh, say what you really think! Don’t hold back!” Ken raised a sarcastic hand. “I mean, it’s not like he’s my friend or anything!”

Dave scowled at him. “You know what I mean!”

Ken tried to scowl back in return, but his face was too happy. He gave up and just smiled and smiled. “Come to think of it, you both smoke, too!”

With a wordless growl, Dave hopped and lunged across the table towards him. Ken drew back laughing, raising his hands in surrender.

#

They finished burgers, fries for Dave and a salad for Hutch, and a lovely piece of pie each.

“So, how about showing me the rat hole you’re staying at.” Hutch’s eyes held a faint challenge, sparkling with amusement.

Dave stopped chewing and raised a finger to point at him. “Blintz, you’d better not be mocking me.”

“Hey.” Ken raised his hands innocently.

“Okay, I’ll show ya,” grumbled Dave. He didn’t want Ken to see where he was staying, but he couldn’t stand to be apart from him yet, either. Besides, he wanted Ken to know where to find him. Just in case he ever wanted to visit—if he wasn’t busy with Jack and his other friends, that is.

They got out of the booth, and Ken paid. He whipped his wallet out with accustomed ease, and drew bills from its thick width. He saw Dave watching, with a questioning expression. Ken made an embarrassed face as he accepted the receipt and walked away, Dave following. “My dad is giving me an allowance again. Got to keep the Hutchinsons looking good. I can’t seem poor or cheap, or whatever.”

“So you always have to pay? You pay for Jack, too?”

Ken laughed, an odd-sounding laugh, as if he were self-conscious. “Sometimes.”

“I thought he was richer than you.”

“He is. Can we not talk about this?”

Dave spread his hands. “Sure.” 

They walked to the car, and he drove to the dumpy hotel. He could feel Ken taking it in, his dismay. It made Dave self-conscious. “Come on.” He slammed his door—then again, when it didn’t stick. “Gotta get that fixed.” He grinned at Ken nervously.

Ken didn’t say anything as he followed Dave inside, but he kept looking around. Dave could almost feel Ken’s thoughts on the subject, his shock. Ken pressed a hand on the thin mattress, heard the squeak and probably felt the springs through it. Dave certainly had, last night. 

At last he turned to Dave, his eyes worried and unhappy. “It’s a dump, Davey. Do you have to stay here?”

“Where do you want me to stay? The Taj Mahal?” He sat down on his bed, feeling strangely crumpled inside. He was trying his best. What did Ken want? He must know Dave didn’t have any money to speak of.

Ken sat down beside him, their shoulders close, his hands together in his lap, looking down. “Uh—don’t get mad. I can—I can give you some money. My dad’s allowance, you know.” He looked up, his gaze anxious.

Dave smiled and ran a hand back over the blonde’s hair, messing it up. “Why would I get mad, Blintz?”

Ken’s relief was palpable. “Oh, good. I thought you’d—”

“What, punch ya in the face?” said Dave in an amused little growl. He lightly cuffed the side of Ken’s face and gripped his arm, hard, holding onto him, this nervous, sweet, self-conscious blond he couldn’t seem to live without. “I love you, moron.”

Ken’s smile bloomed like the sun coming out. “I love you, too.”

Dave smiled at him, feeling himself going all soapy inside, as mushy and warm as the insides of a taco. He reached out and touched the end of Ken’s nose with one finger. “Didn’t say I’d take your money, though.”

“You—?” Ken drew back, his brow wrinkling in a look of ridiculous dismay. “You w-won’t?”

Dave laughed and gave his arm a little shake. “Of course I will. If you want. Just—don’t go thinking you have to buy or give me stuff all the time, okay? It’s not about that.”

“Oh—I-I know, Davey.” He looked down. His hand on Dave’s arm held on tightly, like he didn’t want to let go, either. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too.”

Ken leaned against him. “I missed you.”

“Yeah.” Dave’s voice was so tight he almost couldn’t get the word out. He patted Ken’s back. “Me too.”

#

They packed up Dave’s belongings and carted them out to his junk heap of a car, got in and drove away. Ken didn’t care if people were staring at the two teenage boys performing an exodus of the dumpy hotel. The pimps and creeps and druggies watching, laughing. He wasn’t letting Dave stay there one more night.

“Try this one,” said Ken. He pointed to a blue-roofed hotel, a better one, he was pretty sure.

“You’ve stayed here?” Dave coaxed his dying beast into a parking spot, and yanked on the emergency brake. He seemed to have to use it every time, now.

“No, but I think my dad has.”

They walked to the counter, Ken in front. “I’d like a room for my friend, please. How much for one night?”

The man looked them over skeptically, but finally gave a price, and then a key when Ken paid. They lugged Dave’s bags up to the third floor, and got him settled in.

“You sure you’ll be okay? Don’t forget to eat supper, okay?” Ken eyed him nervously. Dave flopped on his new bed, staring at the ceiling, bouncing a little.

Dave cast him a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, Kenny. You know ‘bout me an’ food.”

“What I know is you’ve lost weight since I saw you last.” Ken came over and sat on the bed, reached out and poked Dave’s stomach. “Hey. I’m worried about you, okay? Your pride—or something—wouldn’t let you stay with the Blaines. Just don’t let it make you starve to death, okay?” 

Dave looked up at him, blinking a little. “I wouldn’t. I didn’t starve.”

Quietly, Ken got out his wallet, slipped some bills out and tucked them under Dave’s side. He could feel his ribs, even through his shirt. It made him feel so sad to think of Dave, the eating machine, going hungry. “Please?”

Dave nodded, turning away. He sat up and slid the money into his pocket without looking at it, and rubbed his nose. He said in a small voice, “You wanna stay tonight?”

“Can I?”

“Sure. You could call your folks, tell them you won’t be home.”

“Yeah, I guess I could do that. Where do you want to eat tonight?”

“Bozo,” said Dave affectionately, damp-eyed and smiling. “You’re the one that knows the town!”

It was good to spend time together again. They talked and laughed and joked and argued. And ate. Oh, how Dave ate. He twirled spaghetti on his plate, concentrating hard, trying not to splatter any on his shirt sleeves—and failing. He chewed his way through the garlic bread like a beaver through wood. They had to order three basketsful. He even ate all his salad. And when he finished, he sat silently staring at Hutch’s food. Ken raised a hand and called, “Waiter!”

Dave chewed his way blissfully through a whole extra order of pasta, and got a doggy bag for the last couple of bites that he couldn’t finish. He wasn’t willing to waste even an ounce. When they finished, and Ken paid, and they walked from the restaurant together, Dave wore a blissful, hooded expression. His t-shirt actually fit tighter around his middle, making Ken smile a little. But best of all, most of the hollow look had left his eyes and face.

By bedtime, it felt almost as if they’d never been apart. Then Ken felt a little uncomfortable; he didn’t have any pajamas, couldn’t sleep in his clothes. But Dave had an extra pair, lent it to him—the ones Ken had given him, so long ago.

Dave curled next to him with a little sigh—a little sigh that smelled of garlic bread. He kept one hand gripped gently on Ken’s arm. “I missed ya.”

“Me too, Davey.” He reached over, and ruffled dark, familiar curls. Dave leaned into his touch.

That night, Ken woke at the sound of whimpering, rolled automatically nearer to Dave, and shook him. “You having bad dreams again, Davey?”

“Mm. Kinda.” Dave drew him gratefully into a hug, and just hung onto him as his breathing evened out. “I’ve missed you so much. I wish I didn’t miss you so much.”

“Oh, you want me to just be the one?” Ken patted his back.

“Yeah. No. I don’t think you could ever miss me as much, Kenny. But…I’m glad you missed me some.”

“Starsk. I’ve missed you lots. You can’t know you missed me more. Maybe I missed you more.”

“Yeah, but you had other people…”

“And so you could’ve, if you hadn’t run off like a little kid. The Blaine’s would’ve taken care of you. I’m sure of it.”

“No, no. We had this conversation, Ken. Not gonna be a burden to ‘em.” His arms tightened around Ken. “Just to you.”

“Dave, if anyone’s a burden…trust me, it’s not you.”

“You either, Blintz.” He drew back, looking at Ken seriously.

“Raggamuffin.”

Dave cracked a smile. “Rich kid.”

“Curly-headed jock.”

“Friend of a guy named ‘Jack!’”

They laughed a little, sheepishly. 

“I think we’re losing the touch. You used to have better insults than that, Ollie.” Ken reached up and ruffled Dave’s curls gently, smiling at him.

Dave squinted a little, eyes narrowing to a naughty look. “That’s cuz you don’t know what I think of Jack.”

Ken rolled his eyes and threw a hand into the air in exasperation.

#

The next day in school, they were inseparable whenever possible, although not all their classes coincided, and they mostly couldn’t sit together. But they sat together at lunch, smiling and chatting over macaroni and cheese, and the weird-tasting brownies the cafeteria served.

But Ken jumped up when he saw his friends, and invited them over. “Guys. Come eat over here. Okay, Starsk?” He glanced at his friend, whose mouth was full; Dave nodded. Ken gave him a pat on the back, and stayed standing, grinning, while his friends came over slowly.

They seated themselves around the table, looking jaundiced and a bit bored by the idea of a school lunch. Janice didn’t have anything in front of her. She got out a jar of nail polish and began to touch up her already-perfectly-red nails. Jack finished a sandwich, and began to chew his way through the macaroni and cheese. “It tastes like glue.”

“Then why are you eating it?” Michael unwrapped a ham sandwich and took a bite.

“Because I’m still hungry.”

Ken grinned a little. Dave glared at him. I am not like that! He finished his food, and filched the rest of Ken’s brownie.

After finishing everything he could, he reached for his pack of cigarettes, tapped one out, and cast Ken a half-rueful glance. “I’ll be back.” He waved the cigarette, and then slid it away to hide while he sauntered out of the building. He’d been meaning to quit, but…

He had almost finished his smoke, greedily savoring the last few drags, when Jack came out and joined him. His walk was lazily confident, the walk of a big, powerful man who knows he’s big and powerful, and can take the world on, one way or another.

He got out a cigarette, gave Dave a nod, and lit his smoke, cupping his hand around it to protect the fire from wind. He even had a gold lighter.

Dave looked him up and down, feeling like he was seeing everything he wasn’t, and would never be. Jack took a deep drag of his cigarette before speaking. 

Dave waited for it; he knew something was coming, just not what. 

“So…you’re Kenny’s pal from California, huh?”

Dave just looked at him.

Jack tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette, and turned cold, amused blue eyes on Dave, and smiled. “He never talked about you.”

Dave pushed off from the wall, ground out his cigarette with his heel, and headed back inside.

#

Dave drove Ken home, and came in with him. Ken had given it a lot of thought, and was hoping his mother would be home.

She wasn’t home, but Lana was.

“Hey, who’s this? Introduce me.” Dave gave Ken’s little sister a smile. 

“This is Lana, my sister. Lana, this is my buddy Dave. He moved out here now.”

“How do you do?” Lana held out a hand primly.

“Ah, so formal! Cute little kid ya got here,” said Dave, ruffling Lana’s hair, smiling at her and then Ken. 

Unlike if Ken tried to ruffle her hair, she didn’t complain. She just looked up at Dave, her eyes wide, blinking and smiling a little.

The three of them were soon sprawled on the floor, playing Candy Land. Lana insisted she was too old, but it was the only board game they had on hand, and Ken really didn’t want to make his little sister feel left out the first time Dave came over.

“Haha! I win, I win!” Dave jumped up and danced around the room, pumping his arms like he was a steam engine.

Ken rolled his eyes. “Man, could you act any younger?”

Lana laughed. “Let’s play again!”

“All right!” Dave got down on the floor and put on his intense, game-playing face. “You’re on, kiddo. You already know I won’t go easy on you ‘cuz you’re little, so give it all you’ve got.”

“I’m not so little,” said Lana. Her eyes sparkled with challenge and delight.

Ken grinned, glad to see they would get along okay.

The three of them were still playing the game when Mother got home. Ken heard her car in the drive and tensed. He kept his head down, kept playing, his heart yammering in his throat, and wondered if he’d handle this right. A few moments later, he saw her head peeking in the room, watching the children playing.

He excused himself. “Take my turn, Dave.”

“All right, but don’t blame me if you lose!”

“I’ll take my chances,” he murmured and headed out to the kitchen.

Mother looked at him, unwinding her silk scarf. “What is that boy doing here?”

“He moved out here with a relative. He’ll be around a lot, now.” He looked at her, intently. “Maybe he’ll even call, sometimes. If he can get a message through.”

Mother made a rather prissy, irritated face. “Kenny, you can hardly blame me for trying to shield you from unsuitable acquaintances. First that Sullivan girl, and now—”

“Dave is not like Jenny!”

Mother remained calm. “Well, he’s hardly in your class, is he, Ken? He’s obviously poor, uneducated…so far beneath you he’s not worth your time. Now, I recognize that living in California allowed you to make new friends…but I think it’s time to get back to your old ones, the ones of appropriate social standing and class. Don’t you?”

He glared at her, feeling that awful feeling that meant he was on the verge of tears. “No, Mother, I don’t. Dave’s a true friend. He doesn’t like me because of my ‘class,’ or social standing. I’m not giving him up, and if you cared about me at all you wouldn’t ask me to.” He turned on his heel and headed back towards the living room.

“Ken,” said his mother, but Ken kept going. He could hear them, laughing, Lana’s high, childish voice raised with Dave’s shout of laughter. The sounds mixed together were infectious. He sniffed, and blinked hard a few times, and forced a smile on his face as he came to rejoin them.

“What’s up? Did I lose already?”

“No, not yet!” said Lana, grinning.

From his position sprawled on his stomach on the floor, Dave looked up, looking innocent and vulnerable for a moment. “Everything okay?”

Ken sat down crossed legged and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Yeah. Everything’s okay.”

Chapter 12

“Hutch?” Jack was speaking loudly over the telephone. He always did that, as if, if he didn’t shout, you wouldn’t be able to hear him over the line. He did a lot of things that way, going overboard. “You finally there?”

“Yeah, Jack. I can hear you. What is it?”

“Great to hear you. Man, you’ve been gone—like you’re locked away in a dungeon or something. Call once in awhile, wouldya?”

“Sorry. What is it?” He glanced at the wall clock. He’d promised to meet Dave out front at eight, and go see a movie.

“We’re having a hotdog roast down by the lake. Want to come? The others said you wouldn’t, you’d be with that Dave character.”

“Actually, I was going to see a movie…”

“Well, skip it! Come on down. Marshmallows and everything.”

Ken grinned. Trust Jack to think that would be a selling point. He and Dave really did have a lot in common, however much Dave might deny it. “Can I bring Dave?”

“Sure, why not? The more the merrier! Hurry up—before the fun starts!” The line went dead. Ken shook his head as he hung up, feeling like a hurricane had passed by, the way he often did after talking to Jack on the phone. Jack was even more disjointed and wound up over the phone. He seemed a little calmer in person. Sometimes.

Ken headed out to wait for Dave. It was a cool night; he pulled his jacket’s sleeves down further over his wrists, hooked his hands up inside them to keep warm, and jittered in place.

Dave’s junk heap drew up to the driveway but didn’t pull in. It crept alongside the road achily, as if it were tired and sighing at the treatment of the young, who wanted it to keep going long past its rightful retirement age. “Get in!” Dave gestured for him to hurry up, not stopping the car. “It’s too hard to get it started again if I stop!”

Ken ran alongside. The pounding of his boots mixed with the asthmatic thrum of the engine and coughing of exhaust. Why had he worn his cowboy boots to run in? He caught the handle, pulled himself forward. Dave leaned across and gave the door a shove; between them they got it open, and Ken landed on the seat breathlessly, pulling the door shut after him. 

“Y’okay?” Dave glanced at him, both hands on the wheel, no attention free to give him but looking anyway.

“Mm-hm. Dave. What do you say to a change of plans? Hotdog roast at the lake. Jack and the others invited us.”

For a moment, Dave said nothing, keeping his eyes on the road, driving grimly; driving seemed to need all the skill he had these days, as his car got more and more quirky.

Then he glanced at Ken. “Will there be marshmallows?”

Ken grinned back too hard to answer; he nodded, hard.

But it soon became abundantly clear that they were not both welcome. Jack was friendly and bouncy, no harm in him, but Michael and Janice exchanged look as if to say, “Oh boy, here we go again!” Ken thought he glimpsed an eye-roll from Janice, too.

There was another girl, too, a giggling blond beauty who hung on Jack’s arm. Probably nothing would have bothered him at the moment. They all managed to get some hotdogs and marshmallows eaten without openly fighting. Then, replete with food, they stretched out around the fire. Michael had brought his guitar, and began picking at it. 

In the old days, Ken would’ve brought his along too, and the two of them would have played a song together. Tonight, he just listened, relaxing in the grass, his front warm from the fire, his back cold from the evening chill. 

Dave stretched out on the grass beside him, hands behind his head, listening to the music, staring at the stars, and the glowing embers that danced skywards to join them. He moved a little, brought his head closer, and set it to rest on Ken’s thigh. Ken brought a hand down and smoothed Dave’s hair back without even thinking about it.

Janice hopped up all of the sudden, looking agitated. “Honestly! Would you two get a room?” She sent Ken and Dave an ugly glare.

Ken blinked. He raised his hand, left it hovering over Dave’s head, and then withdrew. Had he done something wrong?

Dave didn’t move his head; he looked up at Janice with lazily hooded eyes. “I’ve got a room. Wanna come over some time and try it out?”

Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she turned away, flapping a hand. “See the kind of guy he brought here?! What an ass.”

“I do have a nice one, thanks. So do you!” called Dave after her. He turned to smile at Ken, giving him a wicked look, inviting him to share the humor of the situation.

Ken stared down at him in shock, and blinked. “Dave—since when do you talk to girls that way? She’s my friend.”

Dave stared at him for a moment, narrow-eyed and stubborn. “Great choice in friends,” he said sarcastically. He got up and walked away, sauntering, his hands in his pockets, his walk tough.

Michael had stopped playing, and looked at Ken now in disbelief, as if to say, “Can you believe this?”

Jack, his arms around his girlfriend, looked up momentarily. The girl watched, too, and then began to tickle his arm, and their attention was gone from the scene again. They might as well not have been here.

Ken grimaced, threw up his hands, and got up. “Dave?” He started after him.

He found him, almost tripped over him in the dark. Dave had flopped again on the grass. “Don’t know how you can stand it. It’s cold down there.” Nevertheless he sat down beside him, and poked him in the shoulder. “Hey. What’s up, huh?”

Dave turned to him with intense eyes. “Am I not red-blooded enough for ‘em? I just don’t see how I could like girls any more than I do.” He raised a hand, gesturing. “And you kinda proved the hard way you like ‘em!” He sighed. “But when we’re together, people are like, ‘Oh, you two are sleeping together.’”

One side of Ken’s face slid up in a small smile. “Well, we do something. Same bed and everything.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Dave rolled over and sighed again. “It ain’t fair, Hutch. What do we gotta do for people to stop sayin’ stuff like that about us?”

“Ignore it. Don’t let it get to you. Hey.” He reached out and poked Dave’s arm. “Big deal what other people think.”

“But…!” He sat up and frowned, his eyebrows and eyes conveying his frustration and worry. Ken sat back to listen quietly while he vented. “I mean, how can they act like they know us, what we’re like, when they don’t? People going around, actin’ like we’re…you know…and—and it ain’t like that at all. But nobody gets it. Nobody. I mean, I’ve never even kissed you, have I? I’ve never even wanted to.”

“I think you kissed me on the cheek once,” reminded Ken.

“Oh—yeah. That. Well, that MUST mean we’re sleepin’ together.” He rolled his eyes. “All I got to say is, if that’s the case, your aunt must be one dirty lady.”

“Starsk!” Ken reddened in the dark.

“I just get sick of it, man. And when I tried to—I dunno—get my own back tonight, and you had to side with them.” He shook his head. “I know I’m not your only friend, but…it gets to me, if I think you’re siding with them against me. They’ve already got an advantage. They’ve known you longer and have more in common with ya, probably understand you in ways I never will.”

“I doubt that.” Ken smiled, and touched his arm. “Hey. I want to back you up, okay? I’ve just never seen you being rude to a girl before. I didn’t like seeing that side of you.”

Dave nodded glumly, looking down. Then he met Ken’s gaze again. “Guess I should go apologize to her, huh?”

“Up to you.” 

Dave went back and apologized. He finished out the rest of the evening polite, even charming when he spoke—but mostly quiet. 

They left early, and got in a late movie.

#

One day, Jack, Ken, and Dave stopped to eat at a little diner after their trip out to see a wrestling match in Jack’s car.

Jack got up and patted his pocket. “Looks like I forgot my wallet. Ken, could you…?”

“Sure.” Ken rose and pulled out his wallet.

Dave said nothing out loud, but his sarcastic look at Jack said a lot.

“Yeah? You got a problem or something, kid?” said Jack, eying Dave non-too-friendlily.

“Just think it’s convenient, that’s all.”

Jack’s smile widened, but his eyes turned colder still. “What?”

“Dave…” Ken sent Dave a look. Please don’t do this now! 

But Dave kept his eyes on Jack. “Seems like it’s always Hutch’s turn to pay, that’s all.” 

Jack winked. “What, I suppose you’d rather he saved his money to buy things for you?”

Dave lunged towards Jack—not a playful lunge, but a serious one. He grabbed his shirt and yanked him nearer, speaking through his teeth. “You take that back.”

Jack’s smile got wider and lazier. “Make me.” He was a lot bigger than Dave, and obviously not intimidated.

“If you’re going to fight over me, could you do it in a less public place?” said Ken casually, although his face felt white and pinched. He shelled out the money, gave the cashier a nice smile and headed out the door, not waiting to see if they’d follow.

They did.

They didn’t fight, but the ride home was quiet, unfriendly—you could’ve heard a cricket chirp, even over the engine.

Jack dropped them off and drove away with a roar of the engine, a belch of smoke and a quick flash of headlights in the dark.

Ken and Dave stared at each other, frowning in frustration. “Why do you let him push you around like that?” said Dave.

At the same moment, Ken said, “Do you have to pick on my friends?”

“Ken!”

“Dave!”

They frowned at each other.

“That guy has more money than you ever will, but he always makes you pay! What’s up with that?”

“Dave, you are not in the friendship. You don’t know the dynamics. Jack drives everywhere; I pay—not all the time, just most of the time. But he bought the tickets tonight. Did you know that? He even got an extra one for you, just because I said you might enjoy it. Do you have to be so protective—such an ass?”

Dave snorted. “Yeah, right. Things are really fair. You do whatever he wants and he does nothing you want! He’s like, ‘Oh, let’s go here,’ or ‘Let’s stop there,’ and you’re always like, ‘Yeah, Jack, whatever you want.’ He’s just bossing you around all the time!”

“No he isn’t! We’ve been friends a long time—and you don’t know how it works. Jack doesn’t boss me around. He’s got a lot of energy and a lot of good ideas, and he likes going new places, and having adventures. Some of the best things about him are things you two have in common, I might add! So quit your—your jealous act, and get used to the fact that I’ve got some old friends even…” He stopped, suddenly, aghast by what he’d almost said.

Dave glowered at him. He spoke in a low, gravelly voice, his accent stronger than ever. “Even if I don’t, ya mean?” He gave Ken a cold look, and turned and walked away.

“Dave! Wait. I didn’t say that. I didn’t.” He caught up with him, and took his arm. “C’mon. I didn’t.”

Dave pulled his arm free, and kept walking. “Go to bed, Ken. Get your rest.”

“Dave!” Ken stopped for a moment, then ran after him again, his sneakers slapping on the pavement. He caught up with Dave while he was trying to get his engine started. He’d parked several spaces away from the Hutchinson’s house, so he wouldn’t make them as angry. “That’s not fair. I didn’t say that, and you know it.”

“Yeah, you were thinkin’ it.”

“It’s not fair to take something you think someone thinks and hold it against him.”Even though you’re right, and I was…

Dave glared up at him through the open window. “For the record, I do have old friends. They’re just the kind of friends that, if I still hung out with ‘em, I’d probably be in jail now. Pardon me for lookin’ out for ya.”

His engine finally started, and he started down the street. 

“Dave…” Ken moved back so he wouldn’t get his feet run over, and watched helplessly.

“Forget it, Kenny. I’ll be fine.” He waved a hand dismissively, and drove away.

Ken stood watching him with a growing feeling of frustration, his throat dry.

#

That night on the phone, he found himself trying to explain things to Jack. 

“He’s just a little overprotective. Don’t be mad, okay, Jack?” 

He tried to untangle himself from the phone cord. Somehow he’d gotten it wrapped around his waist and one wrist. 

“Um…you there, Jack?”

“I’m here. You know…” Jack actually sounded hesitant. 

“Uh, what?” He finally got his wrist free, and started unwinding his waist.

“I don’t think you should spend so much time with Dave. He’s a nut,” said Jack, in that blunt way of his.

Ken snorted over the phone line. “Don’t hold back. Tell me what you really think,” he said sarcastically. Vaguely he remembered saying the same thing once to Dave about Jack…

“I’m serious, Ken.” He did sound serious—a rarity, for Jack, over the phone or otherwise. “Hey, listen, I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow. We can talk on the way.”

“Uh—” He re-twined the cord around his hand and wrist. Dave probably wouldn’t be speaking to him for awhile, anyway. Besides that, Dave was having enough trouble driving without needing any extra stops. He allowed himself to be persuaded. 

His conscience smote him after he hung up, though; he called Dave.

“Davey?”

“Yeah? Waddaya want?” He could almost picture the stubborn jut of Dave’s tight jaw.

“Uh— Sorry. And, uh—” He gulped. “Jack’s gonna drive me to school tomorrow, so you don’t have to b—”

He jerked back as Dave slammed down the phone. He stood blinking at it, gnawed his lip, got loose from the cord, and tried again. Dave didn’t pick up this time. Darn it, Davey… Don’t treat me like this!

He went to bed, and slept troubled.

Jack, when he picked him up, arrived late, looking fresh and hearty and full of life. He parked his red convertible sideways in front of the driveway and honked. Ken took off down the drive and tumbled into the front seat, balancing his bag of books, a sack lunch, and the jacket he hadn’t slipped on yet. With a squeal of tires, Jack jerked back out into traffic, cutting off a pickup. The driver honked and swore at Jack. Jack raised a casual middle finger and sped up.

The wind roared through his hair, even though it was really too cold to be driving a convertible. Ken gripped the door, hard, and inwardly winced. Maybe it would’ve been safer to drive in Dave’s bucket of bolts, after all.

“So, you wanted to talk to me?” He halfway wanted to avoid the conversation altogether, but it would just come up again, probably at an even less convenient time.

“Yeah.” Jack nodded, shouting over the roar of the road. “Dave. Think he’s holding you back. Cut him loose.”

“What?” Ken blinked at Jack, gaping a little. “What did you just say?”

“Cut him loose.” Jack kept both hands on the wheel, but turned a casual look on Ken. It was a calm, coolly in-charge look—one confident of being obeyed.

“Uh, I’m not gonna do that, Jack. He’s my friend.”

Jack looked back at the road. “We’ve been friends longer. And he’s no good for you.”

Ken’s jaw tightened—and his grip on the door, when Jack narrowly avoided a bread van. “You can’t know that.” 

“I think I’ve seen you two together enough. He’s hanging on you—possessive—dragging you down. Skip it. You don’t need that. Won’t get ahead in life like that. You need to make friends who can help you. Not ones who always need something.”

“You mean like you?” Ken’s eyes stung, and he turned to frown at Jack, more hurt by this than anything else—that Dave had been right, and Jack did think he could boss him around. “I thought Dave was wrong about you. Since when do you tell me who I can and can’t be friends with?”

Jack threw up one hand. The car, steered one-handed, veered around a corner. 

Ken winced and bit his lip. “Could you slow down?”

Jack ignored him. “You didn’t listen to me about Jenny, and look what happened there. I put up with it—hey, a bit of skirt, even if she was Catholic—but this Dave is no damn good for you. Listen to me, or you’ll be sorry.”

“You’re prejudice now? Jack. Slow down,” said Ken. His heart yammered painfully, so fast he felt like it was going to thump free of his chest any second. “Jack. Please.” He hung onto the door for dear life as they squealed around another corner.

“Give him up,” said Jack in a cold voice—so unlike his usual warm one.

And Ken, scared for his life, said—

“Okay!”

He closed his eyes and brought a hand up to his face, as the brakes squealed, and they both flung forward in their seats—and then he opened his eyes, and here they were, school, safe and alive. Well, mostly alive. A friendship had just gone into cardiac arrest.

Ken hopped out of the car, grabbed his stuff, and didn’t look back.

“You promised, Kenny. Better keep your word.”

Ken ran up the steps, feeling like a scared little kid, stupid and not brave at all, and yet completely unable to contain his reaction; he was shaking all over. He ran up the stairs into school, and tripped near the top.

“Ken. Hey. Ken. Wait up. What’s wrong?” Dave caught him by the shoulders halfway down the hall and turned him around, concern etched on his face, completely overpowering the stubborn, moody expression he still partially wore. “You’re white.”

Ken plastered a smile on his face. “I’ve always known that.” He pulled free of Dave, and headed into class just as the bell rang.

He kept his head down through school, even after he got control of his reactions. He avoided both Jack and Dave, and slipped away and rode the bus home, ignominious, but alone.

#

“Father.”

Father held up a hand, turned the page of his newspaper, and kept reading. He sat in an easy chair by the fire. With a quiet sigh, Ken sat down on a nearby chair to wait. He listened to the fire crackle, and stared into its depths, thinking of the fiery red convertible, the fear of dying, and how fast Jack had driven… 

Why would he do that? He never did that before. You should slow down if someone asks you to slow down…

“Yes. What is it, Ken?” Father put down the paper and frowned at him. “Did you need money or something?”

Ken gulped. “Um—no, not exactly.” Father’s frown was getting more and more impatient. He struggled to keep back his stutter—Father wouldn’t want to listen to him then, wouldn’t take him seriously. “I’ve—I want t-to get a car after all. Can you help me f-find one?” He squeezed his fists hard, between his knees, frightened of how his father would take this admission of need. Not well, probably.

But Mr. Hutchinson put the paper down the rest of the way and smiled. “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say in ages, boy. It’s about time you had your own car.”

It’s the first time you’ve listened to me in ages, either…

Ken gulped, and nodded. “I was thinking a used…Ford, maybe. I’ve got a little money saved…” Which he’d been hoping to put towards the police academy, when it was time. But surviving till them had suddenly become important, and that seemed to involve a safe car. It was no good just driving with Dave anymore, either—even if he did forgive Ken and was willing to go back to being his chauffer. His car would probably die any day now.

Mr. Hutchinson made a sound of disgust. “Hardly. You’ll have a new car—perhaps something red.”

“R-red? M-maybe a—gray. Or brown. Or…green?” Safe, sturdy colors. Colors that couldn’t get you killed so quickly. Prickly guilt stabbed him; Dave wanted a red car, and he’d never scare Ken halfway to death like that. Never! …Would he?

Father just nodded impatiently. “Of course. Whatever you want, son. We’ll go look for one tomorrow. I know a good dealership.” He raised his paper, shook it out, and was gone again.

Ken sat back with a little sigh, and returned to staring at the fire. He had to be more grown up, that was all. Time to take charge of his own life, and not rely on Jack—or even Dave. 

The things that had happened today scared him, left him feeling wounded inside, not sure who he could trust anymore. Dave had been right about Jack—but what if Jack had been right about Dave, too? Not the dragging down, or not being of the right class, but…but the rest of it. What if he wanted to boss Ken around, too?

Maybe I’m too soft…too…listening to people…

The fire blurred before his eyes, and he swallowed, hard.

Lana came into the room. “Hey Kenny,” she hissed in a whisper, so as not to disturb Father. “Dave’s on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”

Ken looked up with a jerk, terrified that tears still shone in his eyes. Father’s paper rustled, and Ken saw his father’s eyes on him.

“C’mon,” said Lana impatiently, jittering in place.

Numbly, Ken shook his head. Not right now. He couldn’t have gotten a word out if he’d tried. He turned back to the fire. Just get control, Kenny. Just get control. Be a Hutchinson…

Was it his imagination, or did Father’s eyes hold a gleam of pride, before he disappeared behind his paper again?

Lana left with an exclamation of disgust, and Ken went to sleep that night out of pure exhaustion. 

His dreams were full of red cars gone bad.

Chapter 13

He kept his head down in school again the next day, but even so he kept watch for Jack and Dave. He didn’t see Dave at all—was he skipping already? Shouldn’t he know better, especially when he was so far behind in his classes—

He shook his head; not going to think about friends right now—any of them.

He saw Jack watching him once, almost weighingly, not quite amused, but something like it—judging him? Something else? Ken slammed his locker and turned away. But Jack caught up with him anyway, in the parking lot.

“Hey. Ken. Wait.” He caught his arm, pulling him around with what seemed like barely any effort of his greater strength. 

Ken jerked free of him, glaring. “Back off, Jack.”

Jack raised his hands. “Hey, I was a jerk. You don’t have to get rid of Dave. Forget I said anything.”

“Forget you almost got us killed?”

Jack spread his hands wide. “Man, I’m the best driver you’ll ever meet! You weren’t in danger for a second. I don’t know why you freaked out.”

“No, but you used it to…to get a promise from me under d-duress.” He hoped that was the right word; he was too upset to be sure.

“Hey, I just said you don’t have to keep it.”

Ken glared at him. “Don’t you get it, Jack? Doesn’t matter what you say, now. I can’t believe you did that.” He turned and walked away.

Jack followed. “Ken. I was a jerk. I’m sorry.” 

In spite of himself, Ken took a sharp breath at that word; Jack never said sorry, for anything. 

“Don’t walk away from me. You want to throw away ten years friendship, for one big mistake, huh? Hey—don’t walk away from me.” He grabbed Ken’s arm, harder this time, and spun him around again. 

They glared at each other. 

“What do you want?” Jack’s arms spread wide. “You want to drive from now on? I’ll let you.”

“Don’t need to. I’m getting my own car.”

In spite of everything, Jack grinned. “Really? What kind is it?”

And Ken laughed, almost in tears. He punched Jack in the arm. Jack took it, and didn’t punch him back.

“I don’t know. My dad’s gonna pick it out.”

“Of course he is.”

Ken sent him a quick, suspicious glare. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jack gave him a big smile, a real one. “C’mon, Ken.” He hooked an arm around his shoulder, gave him a gentle shake. “How about you drive us somewhere, and I’ll pay for a meal?”

If it had been Dave, Ken would’ve laid his head on his shoulder, or hugged him, or maybe even said I love you (probably not, but maybe—)

Dave. Oh, hell. Where was Dave? I took my fight with Jack out on him. I wouldn’t talk to him and now…who knows where he is?

#

When he saw how it was, the way the land lay, Dave had backed off. It hurt, to see that Ken wouldn’t talk to him, but from the look on Ken’s face, and the fact that Jack had driven him—well, it didn’t take a lot to put it together. Their friendship was on the rocks, maybe even ending, and Ken couldn’t bear to talk to Dave about it.

It hurt, but he could step back. He could give Ken some space. 

He’d tried calling that evening, promised himself he wouldn’t say ‘I told you so.’ But it had been too soon. He’d thanked Lana, and hung up, accepting it. That night he lay awake with his hands behind his back, feeling and accepting the twinge in his heart, the pain of Ken’s silence.

It wouldn’t last. He told himself that—knew it to be true. It wasn’t as bad as the time they’d been apart. It would probably be better, and shorter than Ken’s depression had been, too.

Tomorrow…or maybe a week from now…but not long…not long at all…it would all be in the hazy past, and they’d laugh together, maybe could even joke again. Ken might be right here beside him, close and comfortable and half asleep.

I’ll always love you best, Davey…

Dave’s eyelids squeezed shut tightly, forcing a single tear out. He wiped it away quickly. He wasn’t going to be so soapy. It didn’t matter who Ken loved more. As long as Dave had a place in the blond’s life, that was all that mattered. As long as Ken kept some space in his heart for Dave, well, he’d be content. He wouldn’t criticize Ken’s friends anymore, either. He’d be good. He’d be really good…

Ken. 

#

The next day, he skipped school. Too tough, to see Ken but not be able to talk to him. He’d been trying to find a decent job since he moved here, so he wouldn’t have to use up his already-mostly-gone savings, or keep sponging off Ken. Today he looked.

He filled out forms at another fast food place, and a factory. The factory didn’t want part time workers, and said they’d get back to him. The fast food place seemed more hopeful. He’d keep his fingers crossed.

After that he went grocery shopping, ignoring the suspicious looks of the man who ran the dented can store, and stocking up on whatever he could find that looked a good price. He’d have to buy a can opener; it was too much work getting them open every time with the attachment on his pocket knife.

He stopped by the used bread store to buy the cheapest loaves he could find, and found a box of stale donuts, too, for next to nothing. That could be his breakfast for the next few days. Then he bought another pack of cigarettes, promised himself he’d make this one last longer, and went home and called Ken.

There was still no answer. He accepted it, stashed his things round the little room and broke out another cigarette, just one, for a little comfort.

By the time he’d finished it, he knew he needed something else. He headed out, for a drive. His car could handle a little something, even if it had been getting ever more moody lately.

#

“I like the way it handles,” said Ken, trying to be diplomatic. He sat behind the wheel of a brand-new 1960 shiny blue Ford Galaxie V8. His father sat beside him and the salesman sat in the back seat, saying something once in awhile, trying to sell them on the car. Ken and Father ignored him for the most part.

In truth, it made his palms itch with nervousness to be in charge of such a huge, expensive vehicle. Brand new! He couldn’t stop thinking about how it was brand, brand new. He wanted a car he could own, not one that would own him.

“Don’t forget the turn signal,” said Father. Ken switched it on, and headed dutifully into the turn. 

“I don’t suppose you have a smaller car?” If he had to have something new, he could at least have a car that wasn’t so uncomfortably huge.

“Why would you want a smaller car?” said Father, not letting the man answer. “There’s a parking lot up ahead. You can pull in and turn around there.”

Ken gnawed his lip. He’s right, I’m being too picky. Dad’s gonna buy it. What am I complaining about? I should just be grateful for anything he gives me…

Up ahead, he saw a car pulled on the side of the road, belching smoke from under its raised hood. It looked like Dave’s car. He blinked, and glanced again. Now he saw a curly head emerging from around the front of the car. Dave. He waved away the smoke, scowling something awful, and began to kick the car.

“Excuse me. I know this guy.” He signaled quickly and pulled over. He rolled down the window and shouted. “Dave!” He waved, motioning for him to come over.

Dave blinked at him, stared, and then came over. His shirt and hands were grimy.

“Ken.” He tried to wipe his hands hastily on his pants, and looked at the men in the car with ill-concealed curiosity. “Mr. Hutchinson…?”

He scowled. “Kenneth, we need to get the car back to the lot.”

“Sure. Dave, hop in the back. Move over, Mr. Smithers? We’ll give you a lift.” He didn’t look at his father. Kenneth, was it?

Dave didn’t need to be invited twice. Ken pulled back onto the road. “Finally died, did it?”

“Yeah, the shit-trap.”

Ken smirked. “Thought it was your ‘baby?’ Guess you’ll be looking for a new car, too.” Here he was, taking charge of the conversation, not just the vehicle. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad car, after all. “What do you think of this one?” he asked, just as if Dave could rush out and buy himself one tomorrow, if he wanted.

“I hardly think—” began Mr. Hutchinson.

“Rides nice. How’s it drive?” Dave leaned forward; Ken could feel his warm breath wafting towards the back of his neck.

“Drives nice.” Ken pulled into the parking lot, and swung the car in a wide circle. He glanced back at Dave, just before heading out onto the road. 

Dave was looking at him, too. Their eyes communicated a conversation in a couple of seconds.

“You okay?” Dave seemed to say.

“Mh-hm. You?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“Me too.”

Ken turned back to pay attention to driving. Mr. Smithers in the back seat looked uncomfortable, unhappy about being forced to sit next to the greasy, dirty, sweaty, swearing teenager in the back seat of his brand new car. And Father looked irritated.

“I like the color. Blue. Suits you,” said Dave.

“Thanks—I think.” He signaled again, and pulled into the dealership. “Here we go. Nice car. Thanks, Mr. Smithers.” He turned it off and hopped it. Dave got out at the same time, and they walked together away from the car, towards the road.

Dave stood beside him, close. “You all right, Blintz?”

Ken kept his eyes on the passing cars—a blue one and a red one in a row. He didn’t know their makes. He didn’t really keep up with cars. “Yeah. Sorry.” He glanced at Dave self-consciously. “Jack and I had a fight. I took it out on you.”

Dave nodded. “It’s fine. I won’t criticize him—or any of your friends anymore.”

Ken grimaced, and ran a hand back through his hair. “Oh, hell—you weren’t wrong about him, Davey—not completely. But we dealt with it. Things are okay with us now.” He glanced at Dave nervously, wondering what his reaction would be. 

Dave just nodded. “Sounds good.”

Ken nodded, too. “Yeah. I’d better get back to my dad. It’s not polite to walk away from a salesman like that.”

Dave followed. “Sure it is. Let him stew. Hey—thanks for the lift.”

“Sure. What are you gonna do with the old beast?”

“Junk yard,” said Dave glumly. “Damn.”

They headed back to face the adults, presenting a united front.

When they got back, Father was shaking the salesman’s hand. “We’ll be in touch.” He turned and headed for his car, smile dying away. He cast the boys a chilly look. “Can I drop you somewhere?” he asked Dave.

“City pound,” said Dave out of the side of his mouth, eyes narrow and snapping with teasing fun.

Ken gave him a ‘look.’ 

“Uh, my dog…lost him and my truck—I mean car—in one day. Kinda like a country song.”

“Dave!” Ken wanted to tell his father where to drop Dave off, but he couldn’t let him know Dave was staying in a hotel. That was a secret. “Can he come over for supper?”

“I think it would have been kind to inform your mother of that earlier, don’t you?” said Father in a tight voice.

“Okay. Maybe some other time soon?” said Ken. He glanced at Dave, who shrugged. 

“Just drop me off at McDonalds. I’ve gotta check on my application, anyway.”

“Oh, you’re seeking employment?” said Father in a chilly voice, rather dripping with distain.

“Yeah, gotta keep myself in condoms and beer.”

“Dave!” Ken exploded. He reached across and punched him. They were both sitting in the backseat while Father drove. They wrestled for a few moments, and Ken got Dave in a headlock and pulled him down, almost onto his lap. Dave gave a yelp, surrendering. 

“Apologize.”

“Uh—sorry, Mr. Hutch—I mean, Mr. Hutchinson. I don’t drink. I’m underage. And, uh...”

“’pologize right!”

“Sorry I was rude! I was tryin’ t’ make a joke.”

“That’s better.” Ken let him up, and smoothed down his shirtsleeve. “Don’t talk to my dad again like that, or you’ll really be sorry.” He looked up at the front seat. Had Father accepted that, or did he hate Dave even more now?

He caught a glimpse of Dad’s face in the mirror. Was that a twitch of his mouth? Was he trying not to smile?! Gladness coursed through Ken. 

He turned to Dave. “So what’d you think of the car—really?”

Dave grinned. “It should be red.”

Ken laughed aloud. “You and your red car!” He turned to Father. “He’s always saying he’s going to get a red car someday. A fancy, fast red car.”

“And paint a white stripe on it,” said Dave, sounding stubborn. “Custom job. You won’t be able to mistake my car for anyone else’s. Real beauty. Not some boring, blue—”

Ken shoved him in the side, and Dave yelped.

“Well, I liked the car, Dad—” It seemed okay to call his Father that, with Dave here. “—although I wonder if it’s a little too big and flashy and expensive. For a first car, that is.”

Dave snorted. “Oh, yeah, right. Don’t want to be flashy! You wouldn’t want to stand out from the crowd or anything. Heaven forbid you get a little attention once in awhile. Maybe if you weren’t always with Jack—”

“What was that about Jack?” said Ken ominously.

“Um, nothing.” Dave brought a hand to his mouth and twisted his lips together, as if he were locking them shut.

“That’s what I thought you said—nothing.” He grinned, though, and Dave returned it, sheepishly. Ken nudged Dave’s shoulder with his own, pleased Dave was letting him play the heavy with his dad there. Show off, as it were, and prove he wasn’t such a shy little kid all the time.

They dropped Dave off at the McDonalds, and Ken waved from the back seat. Then they drove home.

Supper was lamb chops with mint sauce, and they didn’t talk about the car, until Lana asked. “I believe Ken liked it,” said Father, pouring more mint sauce on his lamb. (Dave would’ve loved this meal…) “We’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

Ken paused in the middle of cutting his chop and looked up. “Really? You’re gonna get it?”

Father nodded. “Yes. But you’ll be responsible for gas, upkeep, mechanical inspections—the usual. I expect you to take good care of it, son.”

“I will.” Ken was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Son!’ He’d called Ken ‘son!’

“Oh, and don’t let that boy drive it too often.”

‘That boy.’ Well, Dave was no longer invisible—he just didn’t have a name. 

“I won’t, Dad.” 

He’d forgotten, and called Father ‘Dad’ twice in one day. No one corrected him.

#

“Jack…! No.” In his sleep, the Blintz whimpered, and thrashed sideways. 

Dave pulled himself from sleep and put an arm around the blond one. “Hey. Wake up.” He patted his arm.

Ken’s eyes popped open and he looked up at Dave frantically. “Dave…? Whu…?”

“Nightmare. Something about Jack. Are you okay?” He patted Ken’s chest several times, felt the blond’s heart hammering beneath his hand. “You all right?” he repeated.

Ken nodded, silent, a little frantic.

“You wanna tell me?”

Ken shook his head. “No. Told you—we had a fight. It’s better now.” His eyes said there was more, but he was being loyal, keeping it private.

Dave’s heart swelled with indignant, protective feelings. What had Jack done to get in Ken’s nightmares? Well, whatever it was, he wasn’t allowed to do it again. “You tell me if you need to.” Dave lay down beside him, head close against Ken’s chest, one arm around him. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

“I—I know.” Ken patted his head awkwardly. Dave closed his eyes under the touch.

He kept an eye on Jack after that, a suspicious eye, but as far as he could tell, the big bruiser wasn’t cruel to Ken. As physical as he’d get was throwing an arm around Ken’s shoulders and tugging him into a headlock, teasing him at the same time. But this made Ken grin like anything, made him seem taller and happier and more confident, of all things. So the idea of Jack hurting Ken faded away to a dim question.

All the same, he wished Ken had told him, and he didn’t have to imagine, and wonder, and feel protective and angry. 

Then again, maybe he’d feel more so, if he knew. Nobody was allowed to hurt or scare Ken.

#

Sometimes at Dave’s hotel apartment, he got a letter from his Ma or little brother. Today, he said, “Hey, your aunt wrote me. I wonder why?” He gave Ken a quick smile, and ripped the envelope open. He stared at its contents for a second. Ken, head back in his school text, didn’t notice.

Until the bed creaked as Dave sat down beside him. “Kenny. Your pictures arrived.” He slid them out on top of Ken’s math book. 

Ken looked at the pictures of his baby son John. Tears dimmed his view and his heart began to thump. He touched the photos, lightly, moving them around, spreading them out.

“He looks just the same. But he must be bigger by now.” He looked up at Dave, ignoring the tears in his eyes. “Took a roundabout route, didn’t they?”

Dave nodded. “I asked Hazel to forward them here, so your parents wouldn’t…take them.”

Ken blinked. “Would they?”

Dave shrugged. “Who knows? Probably not.” He eyed the photos. “I wonder if he still looks like you.”

That evening, because he just felt he had to share, he showed the pictures to Lana. “You know Jenny had a baby, right?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes grew large and serious, and she stopped drawing. She’d been working on a picture of a tree house, with several people inside. One had dark, curly hair.

“Here he is. My baby—John. He has a new family now, but…but I think I’m still his father. And that makes you his aunt.” He handed the photos across.

She took them with wonder, examined every one, again and again. And he told her, because he still needed to talk about it and Dave already knew, of the people who had adopted him.

Chapter 14

Dave whipped off his apron, hung it up, picked up the bag of burgers he’d bought with his employee discount, and whisked out the door.

Ken was just pulling up in his shiny blue car. It still made Dave’s mouth water, although he tried not to be jealous. He was happy for Ken, really.

He’d taken up track—on the basis that it was a good year-round sport to keep him fit and prepared for chasing bad guys when he was a cop. But that, on top of working at McDonalds, left him tired at the end of the day. He’d tried out for the baseball team, but they had enough players already. Track was the only sport non-picky enough to take him this year.

He slid into the passenger seat suppressing a yawn, and fumbled with the bag. “Burger?”

Ken shook his head. “I had a big lunch.”

“More for me.” Dave unwrapped a burger and took a huge bite. “Mmmmm. Extra pickles…”

“How do you get extra…? Oh wait, you work there.” Ken glanced at him. “Pickles in your teeth, Davey. Wow, you are one messy eater! Don’t get my car dirty, okay? My dad’ll kill me.”

“Ah, he’ll just buy you a new one. Get the seat dirty? Have a new car, Kenny!” He leaned over and picked at Ken’s leather jacket. “Oh, is that a little bit of smuts on your jacket? Maybe you need a new one.”

“Ass.” Ken laughed and elbowed him.

Dave finished his burger, used a napkin, and balled up the trash and put it carefully back into the top of the bag. He’d save the other burgers for later.

“So what do you want to do today?”

“Pick up chicks.”

“Yeah?” Ken cast him an amused look. “Guess you’ve got to be driving, too, so you’ll look cool.”

“Come on, Kenny…let me. You don’t need a car to get the girls to notice you. Just flash that smile and give ‘em the ol’ blue-eyed charm.” He reached a hand up and gave the back of Ken’s neck an affectionate little shake. 

“Hey, lemmee go! I’m driving! Anyway, we can’t just go cruising. Don’t you have homework to catch up on?”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Dave made a face.

“Come on. It’s not that bad—I’ll help you. All right, you can drive—but we gotta do homework, I mean it.” Ken pulled the car over, got out, walked around, and slid into the passenger’s seat while Dave slid over. “Now I can bug you while you drive. Hey, uh…be careful, okay? My dad said…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Your dad this an’ that—ya broken record!”

Ken gave him a shove.

“You an’ me, cruisin’ the streets. Think about it, Kenny.” Dave crouched seriously over the wheel. “Keepin’ an eye out for crime…” He started to whistle under his breath, tapping the wheel in time. 

“Dave…can’t we just enjoy now? Enjoy being this age? It won’t last much longer. We’ll be grown up soon. Let’s stay as young as we can for now.”

Dave gave him a squinty-eyed, grinning look. “I don’t know about you, but I’ll always be young.” He winked.

“But Dave, you’re not. You acted grown up really fast, when you had to take care of me after I was sick.”

Dave glanced at him. “So? Doesn’t mean it stuck. I’m not bein’ grown up at all right now.” He grinned. 

“Except you’re holding down a job, living on your own…” He stretched a little, raising his arms and twisting his neck sideways.

Dave glanced at him. “You practice too hard?”

“Nah, just—you know, hard enough. But it did stick, Davey.” He turned to look at him again.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“Being grown up. I think—it sticks a little more every time. You’re more grown up than you were, and so am I. You can’t just go back to being a kid after you’re grown up.”

“Well,” said Dave, thinking of all the ways and means in which he’d grown up too fast, the sundry ways—death of his father and aunt, exodus from his home, his uncle’s beatings, and of course, when Ken had needed him. “Well, I mean to try.” He grinned at Ken. “What’s the good of being grown up, if you can’t act like a kid sometimes?”

Ken smiled to him, and nodded, accepting this logic. “You gonna come to my first game?”

“I,” said Dave, “wouldn’t miss it for worlds.”

And he didn’t; he sat on the bleachers, cheering, clapping, hooting and whistling for player number nine, his blond friend looking tall and disheveled in his uniform, a bit uncertain when he came up to bat—but he was good, oh so good. He hit the first homerun of the game, and the crowd went wild—at least, Dave’s part of the crowd went wild.

“That’s my Kenny! That’s my boy! Whoo-whoo!” He pumped his fist in the air, standing up, clapping and cheering.

And his voice must’ve carried, because Ken cast a glance up at the stands with an embarrassed smile. He finished running the bases and headed back to the dugout, where Dave couldn’t see him anymore. 

Dave turned to the nearest person in the stands, a lady wearing her winter coat. (It was cold for spring.) “That was my best friend out there.” He jerked a thumb at the field, grinning. “Did you see his homerun?”

Ken’s parents didn’t come to see his game, but his little sister did, climbing up the bleachers in the second inning. 

“Am I late?” She wore a pink ball cap, her blond ponytail pulled through.

“You missed a homerun from Kenny-boy.”

“Not really?” She gaped at him, wide-eyed. Her eyes were a slightly different color blue from her brother’s, Dave noticed. Lighter.

“What can I say? Your brother’s the best.”

“Yeah.” She flipped her ponytail back, and sat down next to him, and began to clap, along with most of the crowd.

Dave sat back, to wait for more Kenny moments. 

And later, he wrote a poem.

#

My golden angel

is playing baseball

His hair moves in the wind

He runs like music

When he hits the ball

It flies forever

He watches it fly

my golden angel

his face towards the sky

“I can’t believe you write a poem about me.” Ken looked down at the paper. It had things crossed out, misspelled, erased, and was crumpled around the edges.

He looked up to see Dave looking at the ground, scuffing his shoes, hands in his pockets. Then he looked up, shy, smiling a little. 

He’s proud of it, thought Ken, feeling even more confused and odd. “And you called me an ‘angel.’ What was with that?” He eyed Dave.

“You—play like one,” said Dave. “You’re really good. Don’t tell me you don’t know that.”

“Don’t turn this around on me. ‘My angel.’ You called me your angel.”

“Well,” said Dave very quietly, “you are, aren’t you?” He looked at Ken with those eyes that seemed to see right through to his center, and like him all the way there.

Ken stared at him a moment. “I’m just a person, Dave. I’m no angel.” He pushed the crumpled paper back into Dave’s hand, gave him a pat, and walked away.

“Ken. Wait. You are.” He caught Ken’s sleeve, and tugged. “You saved my life and everything. You’re—you’re the best person I’ve ever met and that includes everybody. Because you didn’t owe me anything, and you helped me anyway. Why’s that upset you, huh?” He kept hold of the sleeve, kept pace with Ken.

Ken finally stopped and faced Dave. “Because, Dave! I’m human. Don’t expect so much from me. And…you wrote a poem about me. Tell me that’s not a little…strange.”

Dave drew back, looking offended. “It’s not strange. Most of the poets in most of the world’s history have been men, Hutch! And a lot of times they wrote poems about other men. Even baseball poems, like ‘Mighty Casey.’ And mine’s a lot more flattering, you gotta admit!”

Ken couldn’t help laughing at this logic, and his face relaxed into a smile. “All right, Dave. So you’re a very manly poet. But do you have to write about me? It makes me feel a little strange, being your inspiration.”

“Huh. Don’t mind ‘inspiring’ me to do my homework through, do ya, ya slave driver?” He nudged Ken, smiling.

“Homework! Tell me this isn’t for school.”

Dave raised his brows. “Maybe. And I’ll just get up in front of the class an’ read it to everybody…”

Ken gave a strangled yelp and dived for the paper.

“Ah-ah!” Dave yanked his hand back and held it high, dancing out of Ken’s reach. “And the whole class will watch you turn beet red! Ha ha!” He turned and ran.

Ken, face flaming, chased him. “You—! Get back here, varmit! You—you poet-writing varmit!”

He caught Dave in a tackle on the twelfth yard. “See, now, if you’d quit smoking—” he panted.

“I’m trying, I’m trying. Oof.” Dave grunted, turning over with effort and giving Ken his squinty-eyed, fierce, trying-not-to-smile look. “You’re fun to tease, ya know that?”

“I know.” Still red-faced, Ken felt a bit chagrinned for taking this so seriously. Dave would never purposely embarrass him in class, Ken knew that if he thought about it for a second. Ken rolled off him and helped him up. They’d both gotten muddy, and stopped to brush themselves and each other off.

“Here ya go. You can have it, if it really bothers ya that much.” Dave held out the crumpled sheet of paper, looked at Ken with honest eyes. “I just liked makin’ it. It was somethin’ that didn’t exist before I wrote it. And it kinda captured a moment, ya know? But I got the moment inside, and if you wanna get rid of this, that’s okay.”

Ken grimaced, and stepped forward, halfway tripping again. Dave caught him by the arm and held him up. “Why don’t I just rip your heart out because its beating makes me uncomfortable? Wouldja quit being so selfless, Dave, and just tell me to go to hell when I say something stupid?”

Dave advanced on him, squinty-eyed and fierce, smiling with his whole face. “I got a better idea.” He tackled Hutch, and grabbed his head. “I’ll just rub your hair in the mud. How’s that? Muddy angel. Muddy.”

They roughhoused a little, getting muddier and muddier until they’d practically bathed in mud. They sat still in the mud finally, breathing hard, catching their breath. “If my mom catches me like this.”

“She won’t. She ain’t gonna be home till late today. C’mon.” Dave got to his feet and held a hand down to help Ken up. Ken slapped it away—then changed his mind, grabbed Dave by the wrist, and yanked. Dave braced him, and they walked back together, muddy combatants and friends.

But he couldn’t help thinking… Jack never would’ve written a poem about him. Certainly would never call him an angel, or think about him that way. Like he owed Ken something, maybe. Or like it was more than just friendship and brotherhood.

#

The next day, Dave was reading a comic book when Ken spoke.

“Dave, do you worry about us…I mean, ‘us,’ like maybe we’re too close?”

“What do you mean?” Dave pulled back a little and halfway sat up to stare at Ken. He’d been reading his comic book and chewing gum in bed. (He was still trying to quit smoking.) He’d thought Ken was fine beside him, just stretched out, resting. Dave had had his head leaned against Ken’s shoulder, and a minute ago he’d hooked Ken’s ankle with his foot and tried to drag it nearer. But Ken had ignored him, hadn’t seemed in the mood for teasing, so he’d quit.

Apparently, the Blintz had been thinking. 

I should’ve checked for forehead wrinkling. 

Dave put down his comic book and gave Ken his full attention. “Whatcha mean, Blintz?”

“I mean…you know…” His brow was furrowing like crazy. He turned to face Dave. 

Dave smiled at him and pushed some of the hair out of Ken’s face. “Whatever it is, don’t take it this seriously. You need a haircut, ya know that?”

“Dave, I’m serious.” Ken pushed his hand down. “I mean…too close, you know…like…like maybe there’s s-something…something more going…”

Dave finally got it. “Aw, Kenny, why ya worrying about that for? You’re the one that said we should just ignore what people said.”

“Yeah, but—but what if…” He shrugged, going incoherent and silent. His eyes held a mute worry.

There he goes again, worrying about everything, making things into big deals in his head, thinking too much.

“Kenny, I don’t look at you that way. I don’t wanna look at you that way, either. And I think if either one of us did, we’d know it.”

Ken nodded. He was going red. “I feel the same way. But Davey, sometimes I sure do love well—well—just being near you. And…and maybe hugging you, too… Sometimes if wonder if there’s something wrong—”

“Wrong with you? Schmuk! Let’s see…you get basically no love from your parents, and you haven’t for as long as I’ve known you.” He counted the reasons off on his fingers. “The last girl you loved broke your heart into a million pieces, and you’re scared to try again…”

Ken grimaced and shrugged. “I guess I haven’t dated in…well, a couple of weeks, and then I—I didn’t do so well...” He dropped his gaze sheepishly. He’d told Dave about it; he ended up talking about Jenny, and blowing his nose a lot. The girl had tried to be sympathetic, but she’d quickly grown bored and frustrated with Ken’s preoccupied state.

“I told ya, Blintz, that’s a mental block. You’ll get over it.” He gave him a pat on the knee. “Now look, there’s nothing wrong with ya for feelin’ how ya feel. You really cared about her, and that takes time to get over.” He continued his countdown. “Let’s see…other places you get affection. Oh yeah, your other closest friend shows he cares about you by puttin’ you in a headlock! Huh. Way I see it, unless you get yourself a dog or a cat, I’m the only one you’ve got to give you any affection.”

Ken frowned, looking unconvinced. “I could just do without. I mean, I’m getting older now, and hugging up to another guy…” He shrugged. “It’s a little weird.”

“So we’re weird.” Dave shrugged. “I can live with that.” He watched Ken, studying his furrowed brow, his worried, tensed expression. 

Why does he worry so much anyway?

Ken looked back at him for a long moment, studying his face. Suddenly he grinned and nodded. His smile was like the sun coming out, made his face go from worried and tense to open and happy. “Yeah. Me too.” He reached over and caught Dave in a hug.

“Schmuk,” repeated Dave, hugging him back and ruffling his hair.

#

That weekend, Ken’s parents were away, and Jack wanted to have a party at Ken’s house.

“Come on, Kenny.” Jack gave Ken his most engaging smile. “Come on, I promise I’ll help clean everything up. It’ll be a great party, and we won’t have any trouble.” He hooked a hand around the back of Ken’s neck, and gave him a friendly shake. 

Trying not to smile, Ken ducked away from his touch. “Jack, you know I could get in trouble.”

“Oh, what are they going to do, send you away again?” He caught Ken’s head, pulled it down, and gave him a quick, sloppy kiss on his forehead. “Let’s party, Ken. We haven’t had a good party in ages. Ages and ages and ages!” He mussed Ken’s hair around with his knuckles, scrubbing it. “Come on!” Another tug of his head, another quick kiss, this time on his hair, and then he was in an arm lock, halfway bent over, Jack’s arm around his neck. More hair scrubbing; it was starting to hurt.

All the same, he loved it when Jack gave him attention. It used to be Ken never got any attention from his parents, but when he spent time with his best friend, Jack would thump him around, knock him upside the head with a pillow, tackle him and rub his face in the carpet, and wrestle with him. Ken would go home bruised and rug-burned, but happy. Someone wasn’t disgusted to touch him.

Then when they got older, Jack was less physical, and busier with other people. He became a speed demon with his car, and an inveterate girl chaser. He still had time for Ken, but it was mostly going somewhere, doing something together—less of the purely physical interaction.

Getting playfully roughed around by Jack reminded him of the old days, made him good, feel like a kid again. He couldn’t resist. “Okay, Jack. Okay. We’ll have a party.”Just better keep Lana in bed…

“That’s my boy!” crowed Jack, thumping him on the arm and back, and twisting him nearer. He caught Ken’s face quickly, both sides of it, and pulled it up towards his own. Then they were inches apart, and Jack was eyeing him with a wicked expression. He made a kissy face, and pulled Ken nearer. Ken flinched a little, pulling back.

“Hah!” Jack released him, and spun away. “You thought I was gonna do it! You thought I was gonna do it!”

Ken brushed and dusted himself off, and pulled his clothes back into place. I’ll never understand Jack…

He tried to make his hair stand down flat again, but it was a useless pursuit. He went to the bathroom to find a comb.

Chapter 15

The party guests arrived, mostly people Ken knew and liked, but some he’d never met before. Jack seemed to know everyone. He waved them inside, chugged from his glass, and grinning broadly. “Come on! Refreshments this way!” he’d shout, and the guests would pile in.

Ken was getting nervous about this. Lana couldn’t sleep through it all, could she? He’d had enough trouble convincing her to go to bed on time, what with their parents gone.

Dave had come over, too. He and Janice now sat on the couch, eying each other with shark smiles, close together and apparently unable to take their eyes off each other.

Ken cornered Jack in the kitchen, while he was raiding the fridge for more fruit juice to make his ‘punch’ with. Ken was avoiding it, pretty sure he knew what was in it, but Jack just laughed at him and called him a baby. “Drink up, Hutch,” he’d said with a wink. But somebody had to stay sober. 

He caught Jack’s arm while his friend was still looking in the fridge, his face lit by the little bulb. “Hey. Jack. Can we tone it down a little?”

Jack caught his arm and turned on him. He let the fridge door fall shut. His fingers bit into Ken’s arm quite the opposite of playful.

Ken moved back a little. “You know—my little sister.”

“What about your sister?” There was alcohol on his breath, and his smile wasn’t completely nice. He twisted Ken’s arm, leaning nearer.

“Don’t want to wake her. Jack,” said Ken, trying to move away, drawing his face back, feeling a fierce pounding in his chest and something nervous and twisting in his gut. 

This wasn’t Jack’s usual roughhousing; this seemed violent, designed to intimidate.

He twisted Ken’s arm further, pushing him back, shoving him against the fridge. Its cold edge bit into Ken’s back. He tried to get free, but Jack was stronger, had always been stronger; there was something of a rabbit and a hawk in this situation. Ken hated that he was the rabbit, frozen by Jack’s glare. 

“Let me go, man,” he said, trying to keep it casual.

“Or you’ll what, tell Dave?” His teeth showed in a fierce look, so unlike his usual Jack self. He gave Ken a hard shake, with both hands. “Gonna tell on me, huh?”

“No.” Ken’s heart hammered hard. A quick flame of anger filled him, but he didn’t act on it. Jack had always been bigger, one of the biggest football players on the field. He knew how to tackle, he knew how to intimidate the opposite team, could do whatever he wanted.

His breath was hot and beery. “Or you’ll what?” he whispered one last time through his teeth. He let Ken go—and then his knuckles connected, hard, with the soft part of Ken’s upper arm. 

Ken jerked at the unexpected hit. He spun away, feeling sick, trembly, and furious and scared. His arms hurt where Jack had grabbed him, hurt worse where he’d punched him. Ken refused to rub the painful spots. He glared at Jack. “You’re drunk, man. You’re a mean drunk.”

Jack laughed at him. “Nancy boy.” He turned back to the fridge.

Ken felt a quick sheen of tears in his eyes. “Asshole.” Good ol’ Jack—making him feel about two inches tall, and as worthless as mud. 

Jack grabbed for him again, but Ken slipped past him and ran. He caught his knee on the trash can, but kept going, limping, until he was out in public. Then he paused to rub it, his chest pounding, and limped on. He didn’t want to run, didn’t want to have to hide from Jack; didn’t want to lose what he’d thought they got back.

He blinked to see Janice and Dave wrapped in each other’s embrace, kissing intensely.

He climbed the stairs to the second story, and sat down on the top step, put his head in his hands and breathed out a shuddering breath. He was still trembling a little, and his arm ached.

Jack, Jack. Why’d you do that?

From down the hall, he heard a little, hurting sound. He jumped up and ran to his sister’s room. 

“Lana?” He knocked quickly, and pushed the door open. “L-Lana? A-are you okay?” He stopped. She was lying on her bed, sobbing, hugging a pillow.

“Hey. Hey.” He sat beside her and put a hand on her back, rubbed it gently. “Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Not Jack. Please not Jack… He could forgive Jack scaring and hurting him, but not Lana.

“I-it’s Dave.” She looked up at him, tearstained and bleak. 

“Dave?!” He’d never…what was this about?

“He’s k-kissing Janice.” She wiped at her eyes, her bottom lip trembling.

“Yeah, I saw.” He stared at her, not understanding.

She wiped her face, sniffed again. “I wanted him to like me!”

Ken blinked. “He’s too old, sweetie.” 

Oh, man, I should’ve known. The way she lights up around him…I thought she was too young to feel that way!

Great. Dave had another conquest, with his womanizing, charming ways: Ken’s little sister.

“He really is too old.” He brushed her hair back. “And…even if he wasn’t…I wouldn’t want you dating him.” How to explain this to his little sister? “Dave’s the kind of guy…well, he makes a great friend, but…he wouldn’t make a great boyfriend.”

She sniffed dramatically, looking at him with confusion in her eyes.

“He…kind of dates a lot of girls. I don’t think he’s very mature yet in some ways, and...well, he’d probably break your heart, kiddo.” He smiled at her sadly, wishing he could lessen the blow, the terrible feeling of her first heartbreak. “That’s just the way he is. He’s really just not good enough for you.”

“I don’t care! I love him!” She threw herself back onto her pillow and wept.

“Shh. Shh.” Ken pressed his hand gently on her back, soothing, wishing he could just leech away all her pain through his hand. “It’ll be okay, angel. It’ll be okay.”

There wasn’t much he could do for Lana. She told him, rather angrily, to leave, so he got up and shut the door quietly. A little while later, he knocked at her door again, carrying chocolate ice cream he’d smeared with marshmallow crème.

They ate it together; they didn’t talk much. At last she curled up on her bed, hugging her favorite stuffed dog, and closed her eyes. Ken retreated. It was after midnight.

He went down the stairs quietly, the way Dave had shown him so long ago.

Jack and Dave were both cleaning up the downstairs, their faces red, probably from drinking. Ken looked at Jack quickly, but he seemed calm now, quiet and glum. Everyone else was gone. The place was a wreck, trash strewn here and there, drinks spilled, things knocked out of place. He winced to see one of his mother’s favorite paintings hanging lopsided on the wall, and paused to straighten it. He scooped up some crumpled napkins, and continued cleaning. He stayed as far from Jack as possible.

“Dunno about these stains,” said Ken, trying to sound like they didn’t scare him half to death.

“I know the perfect cleaning lady,” said Jack. “She’s magic. She’ll be over early tomorrow.”

“Great.”

Jack was talking to him—acting like nothing had happened. Ken still felt confused, angry, and twisted up inside.

Dave picked up the last drinking straw from the ground, and yawned. “Well, I guess I’d better get going.” He covered his yawn ineffectually with one hand.

“Stay the night, Dave.” Ken’s hand closed around Dave’s arm. “You’re not fit to drive.”

“Okay.” Another huge yawn. “Don’t mind if I doooo. Aw, man. I gotta sit down.” He plopped onto the couch, not far from the spot where he’d been kissing Janice earlier.

Janice and Dave? Really? I thought they hated each other?

“Well, I’m outta here.” Jack headed towards the door. 

“See ya,” said Ken, his mouth twisting angrily. You asshole…

Jack flapped a hand and headed out, the door slamming behind him.

Ken frowned at the closed door, then turned back to Dave, whose head was drooping towards his chest. “Dave. Bed.”

He hauled the limp Dave up the stairs, pulled his shoes off for him, and let him tumble into bed fully clothed.

“Ken.” Dave was just awake enough to roll towards him, try to envelope him in a hug.

Ken pushed him away, and rolled to face the wall. “Don’t bug me tonight.”

“Aw, Kenny.” Bleary Dave edged closer, until they were both more on Ken’s half of the bed than not. “Kenny, Kenny.” He rubbed a hand on Ken’s back. His forehead thunked to land on Ken’s shoulder, and a loud snoring proceeded from him.

It took awhile, but Ken finally felt his muscles loosen. Then he dropped off to sleep, too.

#

At breakfast the next morning, Dave was a little wonky, screwing up his face to drink his coffee, and not wanting anything else but dry toast. Ken ate his way grimly through toast with boysenberry jam, coffee, and an apple. 

Lana came down the stairs walking slowly, a bit red-eyed, her hair a mess. She saw Dave, smiled bravely, and then walked quickly into the bathroom. When she came out, her hair was shiny and smooth, her face scrubbed.

She sat at the table. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Whatever you want,” said Ken around a mouthful of toast. He pointed to his plate with his apple and toast, then to Dave’s, empty but for crusts. 

“I’ll have coffee,” she said in her most grownup-sounding voice.

Ken shrugged. He didn’t feel like playing the heavy today. Let her have what she wanted. She poured herself a cup, was adding skim milk, very carefully not looking at Dave, when the curly-headed teen yawned and spoke.

“So…is Janice seein’ anybody?”

The spoon rattled in Lana’s cup; Ken sent Dave a quick glare.

“Hey. I didn’t mean no offense.” He raised a hand, as if promising in court to tell the truth, the whole truth. “I mean, if she’s taken, why was she…”

Ken cleared his throat. “What about that cleaning lady Jack promised to send? Wonder where she is?” He walked to the front door, and peered out, but no luck. “Maybe I should call Jack…” He headed back to the table, then heard the doorbell and dashed back again to let in the short, no-nonsense woman with her supplies. “Thank you for coming on a Sunday.”

“I’m being paid double. Almost enough for making me miss church.” She gave him a glare, as if to say exactly what she thought of teenagers and their parties.

“Uh—yeah. Thanks for coming,” repeated Ken, backing out of her way. He went to go show her the spots on the carpet.

She worked quickly and thoroughly, but in a grumbling, disapproving way. Ken was jumpy with her here—didn’t know when his parents would be back. When she finally finished, he slipped her five dollars extra and thanked her, then saw her out hurriedly.

He looked at Dave—who had spilled some of his cold coffee on the table and was drawing it around into designs, whorls, zigzags, and splotches. Lana sat watching him in a fascinated way. 

Ken sighed. He went to the kitchen to tackle the dishes.

The three of them wound up doing them together. Dave grew less groggy and hung over and began telling jokes. Lana screamed with laughter. Even Ken smiled, and forgot to fret about Jack. 

They were still busy at it when the Hutchinsons returned home. The adults stood just inside the front door, uncertainly. Ken, Lana, and Dave turned to see them. 

“Hiya, Hutches!” Dave raised a soapy hand. Lana giggled again, as some of the soap fell, and plopped to the floor.

#

The family went out to eat at a casual little diner for lunch, and they let Dave come along. 

Lana was so happy. Now that Ken knew how she felt, it seemed obvious everyone should, but either they didn’t or they didn’t let on. He knew Dave didn’t notice. He treated her like the cute little kid she was, as if she was his little sister and he got enjoyment out of teasing her. He tugged her hair once (not hard) and she said “Dave!” while grinning very hard and turning around to look at up him.

Ken wanted to groan, put his head in his hands and groan. How could he protect Lana? Her little heart… She was too young to go through this, wasn’t she?

These thoughts, and the conversation, and the meal, kept him mostly occupied from thinking about Jack.

Had Jack really been that nasty to him—name-calling, and punching him? Was he just a mean drunk—or did he really despise Ken? Maybe the drinking just brought it out…

Jack’s phone call came when they got home. “Hey, man.” Jack’s voice, sounding uncomfortably casual. “Sorry ‘bout last night. I was kinda drunk.”

“Yeah, you were.” Convince me, Jack. Convince me that’s all it was—liquor you shouldn’t even have been drinking.

“Well, I think I might’ve said or did some things…I didn’t mean to do. I mean, would never do sober. So…just forget it, okay?”

Ken squeezed his eyes shut. “You mean forget you manhandling me and calling me a Nancy Boy?” He bit his lip. Had he really said that out loud? To Jack?

“Well, yeah. Hey, look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I—or rather the beer—was thinking.”

Silence. He could hear both their breathing, his own, and Jack’s over the line. “Yeah, okay.” He twisted the cord around his hand, wrist, and arm—up as high as it would go. “See ya at school tomorrow.”

“Yeah. School tomorrow.” Jack sounded relieved. “Listen, I’ll make it up to you, Hutch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. A meal or something, okay? And that rodeo in town you were talking about. I’ll take you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“You and Dave, okay, Kenny? I’ll take you both. It’ll be great fun, you’ll see. You just…just hang in there. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” echoed Ken. They said goodbye and hung up. 

He flopped on his bed and sighed. I’m overthinking this. I shouldn’t think about this so much. He stretched, putting his hands behind his head. 

“Don’t make me knock your block off, Jack…” he grumbled under his breath. He frowned to himself. He could never hit Jack, of course—not really. But Jack hadn’t had any trouble hitting him…

He rolled sideways, uncomfortably, frowning when his arm hurt against the bed. 

He wanted Dave here, right now. It was stupid and asinine, but he wanted to hug Dave for comfort, the way Lana hugged her stuffed toys. Something that was completely hers, and completely safe. And never punched at all.

He sighed suddenly, and got up. Maybe Dave needed some help with homework. He drove over—only to find Dave wasn’t at his rented room. Ken sighed, and let himself in with the extra key.

He curled up on Dave’s bed, hugged his pillow, and fell asleep. 

Yeah, I’m being a baby. Big deal…I’ll be awake and gone before he’s back…

But he wasn’t. Warm arms sliding around him welcomed him back to the present. He jerked slightly, drawing his breath in with a startled gasp at the touch on his arm. 

“Kenny. Kenny. It’s just me.” Dave touched his shoulder. “Whatcha doin’ here, anyway?”

“Came to see you.” He rolled over, stretching, reached out for Dave. “’Cause you can always fix it.”

Dave grinned, and pulled him into a hug. “Fix what?”

“N-nothing. I’m fine.” He tried not to flinch where his arm hurt. He shouldn’t have said anything.

Dave gave him a look. “Kenny, you’re needy and your arm’s sore. If you’re fine, lemme see your arm.” He kept a hand lightly on Ken’s wrist, didn’t force his sleeve up, but just kept looking at him with kindness and concern in his knowing gaze. “Hm? How ‘bout it?”

At last Ken turned away, nodding. He sat still, biting his lip while Dave gently rolled up his sleeve. His jaw tightened, and his eyes grew momentarily hard. But his fingers were light and careful—everything Jack hadn’t been when he’d grabbed Ken, and then punched him.

“Hm. Let’s see,” Dave said calmly. “Looks like…finger marks?” He touched the bruises lightly, his fingers cool and gentle. “Somebody grabbed your arm? Wanna tell me who?”

Ken shook his head, halfway disappointed Dave hadn’t seen the bigger, purpling bruise, and halfway relieved.

But then he said, “Okay. Let’s see the rest of it.” Gently, he continued rolling up the sleeve. Then stopped. “It won’t go any higher. Take it off, Blintz.”

“I’m not taking my shirt off…!”

“Why not? You got nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I do, though. I’m—still kinda scrawny.”

“Aw, Ken, you know that don’t matter. Besides, you’ve been puttin’ on a lotta muscle. I’ve seen you playin’ ball. You’re getting real strong. Come on—you trust me, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” His fingers moved to Ken’s neck, undoing his buttons from the top down.

Ken shrugged a little, helping him slide the shirt off. Why couldn’t he just tell Dave? But it was secret; he wouldn’t go tattling, running to Dave. He wouldn’t.

He remembered one time when he was a kid and Jack had accidentally given him a black eye. They’d been playing baseball, Jack had thrown the ball too hard, right at him, and it had hit him in the eye. It had been an accident, but he still hadn’t told. Even when it made people worry about him, he just couldn’t tell on Jack.

“Oh. I see.” A light finger trailed over the purple mark, cool and—painful. 

Ken flinched. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, Blintz. I won’t touch. Here. You slide your shirt back on. You’re okay. You ain’t ugly, Blintz. Not at all. You’re getting real strong-lookin’. Here.” He slid the shirt up again, covering Ken’s arms, his shame. He pulled the sides of the shirt together, began to re-button, his fingers gentle. “It’s okay, Blintz. It’s okay.”

Tears filled Ken’s eyes. He closed his arms around Dave and hung on, biting his lip and trying to keep his tears silent. “S-somebody hit me. Th-they were mad, a-and drank too much.”

“I know. Shh. S’okay, Kenny.” He touched his head, cupping it gently and smoothing his hair. “I know. We won’t let that happen again, okay?”

“Okay.” He sniffed a little and drew back, wiping his nose. “Don’t, uh, worry about it, you know. I’ll deal with it myself, okay? I don’t mean to be a baby. Sorry for—for crying.” He felt himself going red, hot from being such a crybaby.

“Hey. It’s okay.” Dave laid a hand on his knee. “You’re fine, Blintz. Didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Now how ‘bout you give me some help with history? I think I’m fallin’ behind.”

Ken sniffed and turned away, wiping at his nose. “You really think I’m a baby, don’t you?” He felt like he was turning brick red, siren red, redder than a clown’s fake nose. “You think I’m an idiot for getting upset over one punch.” And the poor kid Dave used to be, beaten every night by his uncle…

“Blintz, wouldja quit puttin’ words in my mouth, and read me some history?” He tapped the book, frowning. “I don’t think you’re an idiot, and if you can’t cry a little ‘round me once in awhile, who can ya cry around?”

Ken’s shoulders slumped. “No one. I shouldn’t cry at all.”

“Yeah?” Dave slid an arm round his shoulder. “Cuz you’re a tough guy?”

Ken smiled a little, and glanced at Dave. “Well, I guess I’m not that tough. I feel like I ought to be, I guess.” More of a Hutchinson…

“You’re tough enough. Don’t go changin’.” Dave gave him a friendly little shake. “C’mon, tough guy. Read to me. Tell little Davey the story of the Fall of the Roman Empire, in ten points or less.” He clapped a hand on Ken’s knee. “Use small words.”

Ken gave in, smiling a little, rueful at his worries—of course Dave didn’t despise him—and began to read. His voice got stronger, more confident as he went along.

Soon they were stretched out side by side, passing the book back and forth so Dave could see the pictures, and take a turn reading now and again.

#

Dave had never been to Jack’s house before. He knew where it was, though, because every time they drove past, Ken said, “That’s Jack’s house.” And he’d grin and look proud.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Jack who’d hit Ken. No one else could’ve devastated Ken so. Except maybe his father. Nor would he have kept it secret from Dave if it had been anyone but Jack. And he’d probably just have fought back and gotten mad instead of looking like his dog had died.

Dave’s face was grim and set as he walked up the drive. It was a big house, almost a mansion. He rang the doorbell.

“Is Jack Mitchell in?” said Dave. 

“Yes. May I ask who’s calling for him?”

“Tell him it’s about Ken. I’d like to see him. Out here, if possible.” He’d rather not enter that home, or let Jack try to impress him with its hugeness and wealth.

“I’ll tell him.” The maid disappeared.

A few moments later, Jack emerged. He snorted, and crossed his arms. “So. He ran to tell you. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“No, I figured it out. You know damn well Ken would keep your secrets till the world’s end.” He glared at Jack. He knew his anger wasn’t just about this, but he tried hard to keep it on the level, on topic. After all, it wasn’t fair to dislike Jack because he’d known Ken longer, because sometimes it seemed like Ken liked Jack better.

“You probably didn’t mean to, but you hit him. Now if that’s how ya get when you’re drunk, just stay away from Ken then and you’ll be fine.” 

“Look.” Jack’s mouth pinched tight. “I don’t see what business it is of yours, but I was drunk, and I didn’t hit him that hard, and I’ve already apologized.” He scraped a hand back through his hair, troubled-looking. “I’m not proud of it. But I don’t see how you’re involved.”

There was so much he could say here. I’m involved because Kenny’s the most important person in the world to me, and I don’t think he is to anyone else. 

No. Try to keep it on topic. 

“When you say you didn’t hit him that hard—how do you know? You were drunk. What I’m saying is, it’s not okay to hit him at all.”

Jack glared at him, crossing his arms. “Look, I feel like a heel already. Would you let it go? I told you, this is between me and Ken—and I already spoke to him.”

Dave nodded, bobbing his head. “I get that. And ya know Kenny’d forgive ya anything, so what I want to say is, I won’t.” He pointed at Jack. “You hurt him again, and I’ll make ya suffer for it.”

Jack snorted. “Wow, you’re more conceited than I thought. You really do think you own Ken. You’ve known him a few months, and now you’re trying to dictate…”

“Dictate you can’t hurt him? Yeah, I can dictate that. Shouldn’t have to, though. You’re his friend. Or so ya say.”

Jack’s grin was quick and cold. “I oughta smack your face in for that. But I don’t think I’ll bother. You know what you are? A cockroach. They swarm in and try to take things over…but they squash real nice if you step on ‘em.” 

“Call me what you want. But you better watch yourself, Jack.” Dave uncrossed his arms, giving Jack a cold look. 

Jack snorted. “You’re all talk.”

“I ain’t. But I don’t wanna fight you, Jack Mitchell—not ‘less I have to. Know why? Because I, unlike some people, don’t wanna hurt Hutch.” He walked away, looking back once. “Remember what I said!”

The encounter left a bitter, unsatisfying taste in his mouth. But there wasn’t much else he could say or do without hurting Ken. 

It was a long walk back to his place. He really needed to get himself a car.

Chapter 16

The doorbell rang. Ken came out of the bathroom in his pajamas, drying his hair with a washcloth. “I’ll get it. Don’t get up. Hello?” He pulled the door open.

Dave looked up from where he lay on the bed at the silence, the sudden and profound silence. “Ken? Who is it?” He raised his head, suppressing a last yawn, and sat up.

Ken stepped back. “D-dad—Father.”

“Kenneth.” Mr. Hutchinson’s voice was clipped and furious and judgmental as he stepped into the room and looked around. His stance, Dave noticed, made it seem like he thought he owned the place, even though he’d just stepped in. Perhaps that would be a useful skill for a cop…

Dave swung his legs around, got up and joined Ken. “What seems to be the problem?”

Mr. Hutchinson’s eyes stopped trailing the room and the boys in disgust, and he thrust a piece of paper into Ken’s hand.

Ken jerked a little, and un-crumpled it. He began to read, in a much more halting voice than he usually used to read. “’Y-your son is not visiting a friend, he is staying at a hotel with—w-with that Dave Starsky. –A friend.’” He looked up. “What’s this supposed to mean, Dad? He is my friend.”

Dave moved to stand beside him. “Yeah, what’s the problem? Because he said he was staying—where’d ya say you were staying tonight, Ken?” He looked at him.

“W-with a friend.” He shrugged. “I guess it seems like I was lying to you, Father, b-but only sort of.” He scraped a hand back through his hair, blinking, looking worried and earnest and young.

“Don’t you give me that.” Mr. Hutchinson’s voice was low and husky—furious. He glared at Dave with such hate in his eyes. “Here I thought you were a good friend to Kenneth, and you’ve only been corrupting him.”

“C-corrupting?!” said Ken.

“Oh, you think we’re havin’ sex,” said Dave. “Why didn’t you say so? Don’t worry. He ain’t my type.” He laid a hand on Ken’s shoulder. Mr. Hutchinson glared at it; Ken didn’t seem to notice it.

“D-dad, we’re n-not! We’re not!” he repeated again, more loudly. His ears went red; his father was looking at him with a disgusted lip curl.

“We are not discussing this, Kenneth. You are coming home and you are never seeing him again. And you—young man. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, living in a fancy hotel room, paying for it with my son’s money, but tomorrow morning I am reporting you to the police. Perhaps social services will know what to do with you—if you’re still here. I suggest you not be. Hop the nearest freight train and don’t come back. I never want to see you near my son again. If you do come back, I’ll see you in jail for vagrancy, extortion, corruption of minors—anything I have to.” His ferocious speech and eyes actually left Dave momentarily silent. Mr. Hutchinson kept his eyes on Dave only, ignoring Ken.

But Ken surprised Dave, surprised them both. “I w-won’t have you talking to Dave like that, Father! He didn’t do anything. Neither of us did. He’s—he’s my friend. Don’t you dare try to send him away because you’ve made up your mind about something—and got it wrong! You’re all wrong and don’t you look at Davey like that. He’s a good kid.”

“Kid? I’m a kid now?” Dave cast him an amused look, proud of him for being so brave.

“I only have his word for that. How old are you, really?” Mr. H’s eyes narrowed at Dave.

“Dad! He’s my age! Almost seventeen. Dad. We’re not having sex.” Red-faced, he tugged on his father’s sleeve, but his father’s eyes stayed on Dave.

“Perhaps a doctor can confirm that.”

Dave threw his hands in the air. “Of course. He’s gonna believe an anomalous note more than his son!”

“Anonymous,” corrected Ken, without turning to look at him.

“What I said,” grumped Dave. He turned away, and kicked the bed. “Damn it. Stupid grownups always think they know best. Fine. You know, fine. I’ll leave town if that makes you happy. But think about this. When your son’s old enough to do what he wants, who do you think he’s still gonna be friends with? Me? Or you, who never listens to a word he says?” He glared at Mr. Hutchinson, then turned away and began to pack.

“Dave!”

Ken abandoned his father’s side, and began following Dave around. “Don’t. You—y-you don’t need to g-go. Don’t. Hey.” He gripped his arm at one point.

“Stop this.” Mr. Hutchinson strode forward and yanked his hands away from Dave. “Leave him alone.”

Ken turned to his father with tears in his eyes. “You don’t understand. He’s all I’ve got, and now you want to send him away? You can’t! I won’t let you!”

“What do you mean he’s all you’ve got? You have a family, a position in society, a great deal more promise than that—person will ever have.”

“Don’t talk about Dave like that. You don’t know. Maybe he’s got m-more potential than anyone! A-and I do not have—I do not have you guys. You don’t care about me. You just sent me away to California for months because you c-couldn’t stand to look at me anymore.” He turned away, tears in his eyes.

Mr. Hutchinson stared at him. Dave stopped packing for a moment to watch their interaction.

“Ken, is that what you think?”

Ken nodded miserably. “I did a bad thing, got in trouble, so—so you had to get rid of me.”

“Ken, it was for your own good.” Mr. Hutchinson faced him awkwardly, but there was some feeling in his words now; he wasn’t just barking orders. “Can’t you see that?”

Ken shook his head a little. “I tried. But I can’t. I just can’t see how it helped at all—except I got to meet Dave. He’s my best friend in the world, and now you want to send him away, too.”

“I thought Jack was your best friend.”

Ken shook his head. He looked up at his father, met his gaze with very wet eyes, struggling not to let any tears actually fall. “Jack’s my buddy and I love him, but Dave is my best friend.”

“I am?” Dave blinked, staring at him.

“Of course. You know that, Davey.”

I do? “I thought maybe Jack…” He cleared his throat abruptly and turned away.

Ken brought a trembling hand to his face, rubbed at his nose. He took a shaky breath, and his jaw clenched and unclenched. Dave came around the bed and quietly handed him a handkerchief. He accepted it, and blew his nose loudly.

“Siddown,” said Dave. He took Ken’s elbow and guided him back to the bed. Ken sat down obedient as a child, sat with his head forward, his shoulders bowed, looking at the floor and taking deep breaths.

Mr. Hutchinson looked helplessly at Dave. Dave looked back, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, Mr. Hutch—blaming me, and it ain’t me at all, is it? Whatcha gonna do about him, huh? You just gonna ignore him, cuz he’s unhappy, and not succeeding enough for ya?”

“Dave,” said Ken, one word, but it shut Dave up. His mouth twisted bitterly, and he turned aside. “Yeah, yeah.” He went back to packing.

Mr. Hutchinson stood uselessly in the middle of the room, looking back and forth between the boys.

“He’s peanut butter,” said Ken quietly, in a hopeless little voice. Dave looked at him quickly; Ken had an intense, inward look on his face. “He’s peanut butter and I’m jelly. I need him in my life. Together we make a sandwich worth eating, and apart we just don’t.”

“Hey. How come I’m peanut butter, huh?” Dave spoke gently.

“’Cuz you’re a nut.” Ken started to laugh; it sounded odd, broken, frightening.

“And you’re slimy, that’s why you’re jelly. Ken. C’mon. Calm down.” Dave poked him in the knee.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Ken took a quick breath and rubbed his face, swallowing a few times. He took a shaky breath and looked up at his father again. His face looked bleak but determined. “And someday we’re going to be cops together.” 

Mr. Hutchinson watched him for a long moment, as if he were a statue and had no idea what to do. He looked at Dave, then, too. 

At last he found his voice. “And I’ll tell you another thing. You’re paying a fortune for this room—renting by the day, of all things. It’s simply not good business sense. A place to rent by the week, yes, or better yet the month—but this is irresponsible.” He looked at Dave. “A good businessman could help you find a place for a much better price.”

“Yeah?” Dave’s eyes narrowed back. He crossed his arms. “And what would he want for that?”

“Perhaps he’d want to make sure his son wasn’t lying to him, and sneaking out without his permission. Or doing anything dangerous with a friend of his.”

“Sneaking?! And I’ll have you know Jack’s a worse influence than I ever could be! Anything Jack wants, he gets. Ken doesn’t listen to me like that.”

“Dave,” said Ken. He got up, his eyes on his father. “You’ll help us find him a better place—really? N-not all that about the police and riding freight trains?”

Mr. Hutchinson scowled, as though he hated having to put in into words. His hands became fists momentarily, and Ken stared at them, as if fascinated. Mr. Hutchinson uncurled his hands again and spoke. “I will help him find a place. He will pay what he can towards the rent, and I’ll cover the rest. I expect you to tell me if you want to stay over with him. And keep up your school work, and—”

“Yes, Father! Yes, I will! Thank you!” Ken’s quick smile blazed out, and his eyes were shiny again. “I—thank you.”

Mr. Hutchinson cleared his throat. “Ahem! And we’ll talk more about this becoming cops later!” he said with a stern look, and turned and headed quickly towards the door. “Ken!” he said after a moment.

“Y-yes, Father?” Ken stared at his father, standing just inside the door, with his hand on it, waiting to leave.

“Come home, would you?” His voice held no command now, only sheer weariness.

“O-okay, Father.” He watched the back of the swiftly retreating businessman. The door shut, and then Ken turned to Dave with a delighted smile. “You hear that?! You can stay!” He rushed forward and hugged him quickly. Dave was just starting to return the hug—feeling rather dazed by the whirlwind of Mr. Hutchinson and his rapidly changing edicts—when Ken pulled back. “Gotta get changed—gotta go home!”

“But Ken…” It was Dave’s turn to follow him around, feeling lost. “You’re going?”

“Yeah! Didn’t you hear? He asked me to come home!” His smile was delighted and incredulous and he cast it to Dave, inviting him to share his happiness.

All Dave felt was a sickening weight in his gut. “What if he changes his mind? Still calls the cops on me?”

“He won’t. He was just upset when he said that—he won’t do it! You heard him! He’s gonna help us find you a better place. Anyway, you really aren’t embezzling or whatever. You’re perfectly legally allowed to be here.”

“So…eh…I’m really your best friend, huh?” said Dave, standing uselessly by the bed, while Ken changed into his jeans and stripped off his pajama shirt to change into something else.

Ken, bare-chested and light-haired, cast him a quick, delighted grin. He looked skinnier without his shirt on, but also somehow stronger—you could see the muscles on his body, and his ribs were less obvious lately. “He wants me to come home! Maybe—maybe he misses me, Davey.” Ken’s happiness was infectious; Dave couldn’t help smiling back.

“Yeah. Course he does. How could he not?” 

“That’d be—wonderful.” Ken’s eyes were still remarkably close to tears. It made the blue seem to shine forth farther; pain and wetness magnified their color.

“You’re my best friend, too.” Dave brought a hand up and ruffled the hair on the side of Ken’s head, until he smiled. “It doesn’t do it justice, but you are.”

Ken smiled, closed a hand briefly over his. “I know. You too. And—and—I know.”

“Still say you should be peanut butter,” he said, just for something to say. 

Ken laughed, a little shakily, grabbed his jacket and swung it over his shoulder, and headed out the door.

Dave watched, smiling and raising a hand in farewell. He didn’t let the smile slip until Ken was gone. Then he slumped to the bed and let out a sigh. Good for Ken, if he and his dad could get along better. But it left Dave feeling lonesome and sad. He didn’t exactly have the same opportunity to make up with his dad, or uncle. Or anyone.

#

“Jack.” Ken faced his friend quietly. He’d driven over, to talk to him. “Um, somebody left my dad an anonymous note. It said…some things about Dave that…weren’t true. Well, we talked about it. Everything’s okay now. But…somebody was trying to get me in trouble, and—I just wanted to say, it wasn’t you, was it? You wouldn’t do that, right, Jack?” He looked at his friend closely, asking for Jack’s reassurance.

Jack blinked. “Yeah. Of course not, Kenny. I’m not that spiteful.”

“Oh—yeah—no, I didn’t think you were. I just thought—”

Jack laughed. “Thought what, you moron? That I’d try to get you in trouble, like some kind of juvenile, jealous fiend?” He laughed again, and hooked an arm around Ken’s shoulder.

Ken laughed, a little awkwardly. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

It hadn’t looked very much like Jack’s handwriting, after all. Just a little. It was so hard to tell, with all-capital letters. Really, it could’ve been anyone.

He let Jack rough him around a little, and tried to make himself believe Jack was telling the truth. He didn’t seem like he was lying, certainly, but it was hard to trust Jack as much as he once had. Was he getting less trusting, or Jack less trustworthy?

Dave was at his new place now, a decent little apartment Ken’s father had picked out and rented for him. He’d gone out of his way to help, really a stand-up thing to do—Ken could still hardly believe it. And, well, if he didn’t get to stay over as much—it was okay. 

And Mr. Hutchinson was making an effort to be home for supper, to spend more time with his kids.

#

“So can I stay over now?” Janice looked at Dave, and shook her gorgeous long hair back violently. 

Dave stared at her. He swallowed. “Uh—what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You said I couldn’t stay over, because Ken might stop by. So can I stay over now?”

They stared at each other.

“You have your own place now,” she said, as if feeling the need to explain further. “And Ken’s father is keeping him at home more…”

“I know about Ken’s father. Question is, how do you? And by the way, this isn’t my place, either—Kenny’s dad is helping me afford it. Yeah. Don’t look at me like that. You were the one who wrote the note, weren’t you?”

She didn’t answer, but his face told him all he needed to know. He got up and yanked the door open. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Fine.” She flounced past him. “I’ll tell everyone you’re sexually confused.”

“And sister, if they believe that—they deserve you,” he shot back, and slammed the door behind her.

He sat down, breathing raggedly, and scraped his curls back, scrubbing through them vigorously with his fingernails. What kind of friend was she to Ken?

And now the question was, should Dave tell him?

The next day at school, Janice sent him a cool look, and turned back to her cluster of friends. Several girls laughed louder at whatever she said, and their eyes lingered on Dave.

He broadened his strut, and let his gaze hold the girls who watched, until they looked away, reddening.

Yeah. Gonna be like that, was it? Well, he was tough—he could take it. But Ken really didn’t know what kind of lady he was dealing with. And he considered Janice his friend…

“Kenny.” He cornered him after school on the ride home. “We need to talk about Janice.”

Ken stared at him, and blinked. “Yeah, Davey?”

Dave hated that innocent look on Ken’s face, and every time he had to ruin it. But all the same, he told. 

Ken stared out the windshield, saying nothing.

“You mad?” inquired Dave. “Maybe I shouldn’t have started dating her in the first place. I mean, friend of a friend, and all that…”

“No, Dave. That’s fine.” He reached over and gave Dave a pat on the thigh. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to her, and—well—if she insists on spreading mean rumors—I’ll…just stop hanging out with her, I guess.” He shrugged, and swallowed, hard. 

Dave watched him. “Seems like I’m making you lose all your friends.”

Ken looked at him. “No, Dave. No—you didn’t make her write inflammatory notes, or…or anything. I don’t blame you. Far from it. You do seem to have a way with the ladies, though. First she hates your guts, then she’s nuts about you, then she hates your guts again.” He shook his head, and laughed—not quite an authentic laugh, but almost. “I’m glad I’m not one of ‘em.”

“Me too,” said Dave. “Just think—you’d always be futzing with your hair.” 

Ken cast him a slow, amused look. 

Dave grinned, warming to his subject. “And…and painting your nails. Talking about boys…giggling…” He raised his voice. “Oo, Davey, look at that cute pair of shoes. I just have to buy it! Oo, Davey, I forgot my homework, can I borrow yours?”

“Kid, I wouldn’t have to be a girl to borrow your homework.”

“Yeah?” Dave looked at him quickly, waiting for it, knew what was coming.

“Yeah.” Ken smirked at him. “I’d have to be brain dead.” 

“Ooh, ouch. Direct hit, sir.” Dave cupped a hand over his heart, and pretended to wince. And secretly loved how, that no matter how serious the situation, they could always seem to get back to stupid jokes that broke the tension and unfrayed the nerves.

#

Spring stretched into summer, and the school year finally let out, with a whoop and a cheer from Dave, a grin and a dash for freedom from Ken.

Jack caught up to Ken as he headed after his friend. “Ken. Want to be a lifeguard?” His quick smile was infectious. “All the ladies love a lifeguard.”

Ken grinned. “When?”

“You and me—all summer long. I found us jobs.”

“You? Work?” Ken’s brows shot up. Then the rest of it registered. “All summer—oh. But I’m going to my grandfather’s farm for a month.” Dave was coming as well, but he didn’t think he should mention that right off.

“Well, when you get back…”

“Then I’m going to my aunt and uncle’s in California.”

“What, again?”

“Yeah, again. It’s a nice place. Bet it’ll be even nicer in the summer. You should come.” 

He could’ve bit his tongue. If Jack said yes, Jack and Dave would be at each other’s throats the whole trip. Or maybe one of them would back out, which would be even worse…

Jack stared at him. “Well, when will you be back?”

“Uh, couple of weeks before school starts.” He scraped a hand back through his hair self-consciously.

“Well—keep that clear, and I’ll make sure there’s a spot open for you.” He clapped Ken on the shoulder—hard. “Get going. Don’t want to keep your little pal waiting.” He gave Ken a shove and propelled him forward. “Get lost, Hutch.”

Ken went, stumbling, glancing back once at Jack, who just stood watching him.

#

“Davey. You mind if Jack comes? On our trip, I mean. I don’t think he wants to, but I invited him, and…” He shrugged, painfully. “I think it got a little awkward, but I didn’t want to uninvited him, and I don’t think he thinks I meant it. So…would you mind, if he decided to come along?”

Dave stared at him. “Hell yes. I was supposed to get summer with you—not with Jack. The man’s a wild card. He’d probably take off for Vegas or Mexico partway through the trip, and drag you along—and maybe not come back.”

Ken rolled his eyes, then looked away. “I didn’t think you still felt that way about Jack.”

“Ken.” Dave laid a hand on his arm. “You wanna invite him along, you go ahead. I’ll put up with it. I won’t even argue with him. Just…make sure you think it through, okay? I can’t see Jack settling into farm work, or enjoying a visit to Hazel. Sorry, but that’s just not how I see him.”

Ken nodded, mouth tight, feeling bleak and sad. Was this how it would always be? Having to pick between them?

“Hey. Ken.” Dave touched his arm, lightly. “I don’t mind—not really. He can come along. Hey, I’ll even invite him myself, so he knows he’s welcome, okay?”

Ken nodded. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think he wants to come along anyway. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He gave Dave an apologetic smile and then left, to get away by himself for awhile.

#

“You wanna come on a trip?” Dave faced Jack, arms crossed.

Jack gave him a ‘look.’ “What do you think this is, charity? Quit gloating and enjoy your roadtrip—only don’t try to interfere when you two get back and I’m working with him as a lifeguard.”

“Hey.” Dave spread his hands. “You got it. No problem.”

He got out of there, glad of the reprieve, but also feeling sort of sorry for Jack. Whatever you wanted to say about it not being a contest—it sometimes of was. Ken was too important not to fight for, as a best friend, or any friend. And Jack had definitely lost that time.

But he’s not a sore loser. That’s more than I expected from Jack.

Maybe he was a better guy than Dave had previously thought.

#

They sat around a little bonfire at Ken’s grandfather’s farm. Their trip was going well, and the boys had been working hard for the last few days. Grandfather had given them permission to have a bonfire if they were careful.

“Davey.”

Dave looked at him expectantly, and Ken felt himself flush. “I want to play my guitar—”

“You do? That’s great!” Dave grinned at him, far too eager and happy-looking. 

Ken had thrown his guitar in the back of the car before their trip, on the chance he’d feel like playing.

“Don’t expect too much. I haven’t played in ages, and I’m not very good.”

“Aw, c’mon. It’s only me. Here, I’ll get it.” He jumped up and ran, his sneakers whisking away into the darkness. He returned and flopped the instrument onto Ken’s lap. It made a booming, vibrating sound, like some kind of whale noise.

He looked at Dave, who shrugged and sat down, smiling.

Ken focused on the guitar. He spent several minutes just tuning and stroking it, before he began to tentatively pick out the first strains of music. His first attempts were clumsy, as he’d known they would be. He didn’t dare look up at Dave, in case he was trying not to laugh. Ken kept going, determined now to get it right, no matter how hard he had to try.

A song came back to him, one he used to sing for Jenny. He could think of her now without hurting, without constantly remembering what they’d had (or what he’d thought they had) and regretting what they hadn’t.

“I only have eyes for you

I don’t care if it’s cloudy or bright

I only have eyes for you—”

He stopped, suddenly, unsure how the rest of it went. 

“Day or night?” suggested Dave, his voice gentle.

“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” said Ken, still not daring to look at him. He improvised on the spot, playing the tune. 

“Don’t care if it’s day or night

I only have eyes for you

Be-cause you set me alight…

I only have eyes…for you…”

He stopped playing and let the tune die away in the air. He looked up at Dave, even though he felt tears shining in his eyes. “I know that’s not right. I’ve lost it.”

Dave’s eyes were soft, luminous, and proud. “Hey. You’ll get it back.” He got up and came around the fire, slid an arm around Ken’s shoulder. “That was beautiful, Blintz. I’m real proud.” He leaned over and rubbed his forehead against Ken’s shoulder. “Real proud. You’re a great singer and guitar player. Your name could be up in lights, buddy.”

“Aw, I am not,” he felt obliged to protest.

Dave patted him on the leg. “Trust me.”

But Dave’s words encouraged him to keep trying. Ken strummed, playing in the quiet night. 

Dave sat nearby, and just listened. After awhile he said, “Kenny. Don’t let anything make you quit again.” 

Ken looked up, to see his friend surprisingly serious-looking. He found himself nodding. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good boy.” Dave’s face creased into another huge grin. “My very own, guitar-playing Blintz…”

Ken shook his head, grinning, and went back to strumming.

Chapter 17

Ken’s flashy car parked in the drive, and the whooping yell of Dave alerted everyone in the neighborhood that the boys had arrived.

Aunt Hazel emerged from the front door, wiping her hands on her apron, smilling. Next door, the Blaines emerged.

Dave stood up, holding his arms wide. “Hello California!”

Grinning, Ken shut off the engine, got out of the car and ran to give his aunt a hug. Dave stood back, grinning, until they motioned him closer, and he got a quick hug, too.

Hazel squeezed their arm. “My, but you boys are getting strong. And look at those tans!”

Ken grinned and ducked his head, and Dave did a playful strut, flexing his arms to show how big they’d gotten. “Me and Kenny did manual labor—his grandpa’s farm. It was great! I got to ride a horse and everything.”

“And fell off. Into manure,” reminded Ken. 

Dave shoved him. “Don’t have to tell that!” he protested.

“Oh ho ho,” said Ken, moving away from his friend. “Came out smelling like—”

“Dave! Ken! Hello boys.” Blaine was grinning at them, as was his wife.

Mrs. Blaine moved forward to hug Dave. And then smacked him upside the arm. “Why didn’t you tell us you needed a place to stay? I should spank you.”

He grinned sheepishly at her. “I’m too big.”

She gripped his arms, hard, and looked up into his face, searching. At last she nodded. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” Dave grinned. “I’ve been wanting to grow a mustache but Kenny says I shouldn’t. What do you think?” He fingered his upper lip.

“That’s not what I meant. And it’s certainly up to you. I know how boys are about facial hair—as soon as you can grow some, they want to. But most girls prefer their fellas clean-shaven. Are you seeing anyone?”

Dave pretended to misunderstand her, and be shocked. “Why, Mrs. Blaine—not in front of your husband!” He glanced at Blaine, his eyes sparking merriment, inviting him to share the joke.

Ken hooked his arm around his aunt’s shoulders, and gave her a rather wicked grin. “Got anything to eat?” Even though he knew he’d probably have to hear from his uncle about teenage boys eating them out of house and home, he was starving. And he’d really missed his aunt’s cooking. They’d taken the last leg of the journey in one go, not wanting to wait any longer to get…home. Home? Yeah, somehow, it felt like it still.

#

After Mrs. Blaine had suitably fussed over Dave, fed him cookies and milk and a leftover lamb chop, Blaine got him outside in the backyard, under the willow. It was a warm day, and even in shorts and a white t-shirt, Dave welcomed the cool shade of the tree.

“Why didn’t you tell us you needed a place to stay, boy?” said Blaine, more quietly, and yet more seriously than his wife had done. “You know how the missus feels about you.” He left off how he felt, but the concern, and pain, in his eyes left Dave feeling guilty. Dave shifted, and slid his gaze down to the ground, hooking his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t like being beholden to anyone,” he mumbled. And he thought of all the ways, and in all the times, he was beholden to Ken. “Except Hutch. He’s different.”

“Why? Because he cares about you, and doesn’t want to see you hurt?” Blaine’s voice was still painfully quiet.

“No.” Again, he shifted uncomfortably. “Because—because we’re on the same team, and he’d do the same for me, and…I can’t trust anyone else.” He looked up quickly, to see Blaine swallow and turn away. He was starting to go gray, Dave noticed. Just a couple of hairs. But it made Dave sad, to see that gray.

“No. It’s not like that,” he said, feeling sadder and sadder, his throat starting to hurt, and yet also getting more stubborn. He had been right not to stay with the Blaines, he knew he had! “And…and it is, too! Ken and me are a team. I can’t count on nobody else, never could my whole damn life. You don’t know. You don’t know what it’s been like, so don’t pretend to understand. Only every time I think I can trust someone, they let me down—except for Kenny. I didn’t want to take that chance on you guys. I didn’t want to find out!” He glared now, through his tears. Darn Blaine anyway, for making him feel guilty, for ruining a good day.

“You’re not my dad, okay? Yeah, so you were nice to me, a couple times, when Ken was in the hospital. You looked out for me. Well, guess what? I thought I was welcome living with Ken’s aunt and uncle, but I wasn’t. So I left. But if I hadn’t been welcome here, it would’ve just about killed me. So I’d rather have stayed on my own than find out. And it worked out. It worked out fine. Yeah, sometimes it was a little hard…” I got hungry and sad and lonely… “But then I went out to Duluth and things were okay again. And I’m not sorry, I’m not!”

“Okay, boy. Okay.” Blaine turned around and caught him around the shoulders, and drew him close. He gave him a couple of firm pats on the back while Dave caught his breath and bit his lip, determined not to cry.

“Not sorry,” he mumbled again, and wiped his face on Blaine and sniffed. He drew back, knowing he wore a defiant look, but unwilling to go without it. If Blaine laughed at him…

“All right, boy.” Blaine gave him a nod and a squeeze on the arm. “It’s all right. But the next time you need help, will you come to me?”

Dave wiped at his eyes with the heels of his palms, smushing the tears away. “I could promise I would, but I don’t know if I’d keep it. Maybe. I’ll try.”

“Okay. Just try.” Blaine hooked an arm around his neck, gave him a little shake, and steered him back inside. “Come on. Let’s see what’s for supper.”

#

“Blaine.” Dave stood in the doorway, frowning. “You said you’d help.”

“Yes, Dave. What is it?” Blaine got out of his chair on the porch, and stood looking at Dave, blinking. “Anything, you know that.”

I do? thought Dave. He frowned. “Well…I wanna go visit my uncle, and I’d appreciate if you drove me.” Blaine looked ready to speak, but Dave held a hand up. “Don’t come in with me, just stay outside. It’ll be safe if you’re there. Oh, and don’t tell Ken. He’d feel like he had to come if he knew, and he’s been through enough. I don’t want him around my uncle.”

It would simply be impossible to do what he needed to do with Ken there. He’d be consumed with worry for Ken, instead of just saying what he needed to say.

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “He’s been through enough? Haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but…” Dave frowned. “I don’t expect you to understand. But I gotta live in, in my head, with my uncle every day. I think if I could face him in person, for real, one last time—well, it would help. I need to try, even if it doesn’t work.”

“Dave, I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.” Blaine’s voice was gentle.

“If you won’t go with me, I’ll go myself—and don’t tell Ken!”

“I’ll come with you. I’ll drive. Dave.” He stepped forward and caught Dave’s arm, looked into his eyes. “Are you sure you’re doing this for the right reasons? What is the best possible scenario—that he’ll change? He won’t. Don’t set yourself up for more hurt.”

“Aw, you don’t understand at all.” Dave pulled free. “It’s not about him—it’s about me. I ain’t talking about this no more. So either you take me, or I borrow Ken’s car and go—right now. And if my uncle hauls off and socks me one, I’m blamin’ you, not him—cuz I already know he can do it when you’re not around.” He glowered horribly at Blaine. He knew he wasn’t playing fair, was practically blackmailing the cop, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t Blaine save the lecture and just help him? He’d said to ask if he needed help, and now Dave was, and he was getting a talking to instead.

Blaine stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. Let me get my keys.” His firm, slow steps took him in the house. Dave waited on the porch, jittering in place, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He whirled to see Blaine coming back out of the house, and smiled at him, a big, nervous smile. He didn’t want to be a total ass when Blaine was doing him a favor.

They drove in near-silence, the dashboard ticking. Dave reached over and fiddled with the radio, changing the stations, trying to find one he could stand to listen to for more than two seconds. Soon, a hit song blared out of the speakers, filling the car. Blaine winced a little, but said nothing. Dave tapped his hand in time, wishing he could disappear into the song—anywhere, as long as it was away from here, away from now.

“Here we go.” Blaine put the car in park, and looked at him. “Remember, Davey. I’m right here.”

Dave nodded, biting his lip, and got out of the car.

He climbed the familiar steps. The house seemed smaller; he’d grown a couple of inches after he’d been here last. He didn’t feel any less scared inside, though. In fact, rather more. It had been so long.

“Hello?” He knocked, and tried to peer through the screen door into the gloom inside. “Anybody home?” He shielded his face and pressed it against the screen.

His uncle’s figure loomed up out of the darkness, and Dave jerked back. “Oh. Hi. Uncle.” He swallowed, hard, and stepped back so the door could open. That creak it made—it made Dave so sad and scared and lonely and homesick inside. He remembered being a kid playing on the porch, and his aunt opening the door to call him for supper. He remembered running to hide, because his uncle had opened the door to come look for him, for his evening beating…

“Yeah? What do you want?” His uncle stared at him now, sarcastic, bitter, distrustful. He looked older than he should, like he’d aged ten years. The drink was showing more on his face now, in the swollen veins, the redness, the unfocused gaze. He supposed it should make him feel bad for his uncle, but he didn’t, just crawling inside and nervous and strange.

Dave took a deep breath.

“I just want to say…what you did was wrong. But…I’m not gonna let it ruin my life. I forgive you. There. Now I don’t have to carry it around. Maybe someday I won’t remember you at all, just the good men, like my father, and Blaine, and—and the people who don’t hit kids. 

“You coulda been my uncle for real—cared about me, and taught me how to be a man. But…you didn’t, and so I’m learning from other people…and I just wanna say…goodbye. I don’t think I’ll see you again. If I do, I won’t be talking about this, because it’ll be so far in the past it’s like it isn’t real. Maybe someday I won’t even care.”

His uncle stared at him. “That it?” He sloshed a nearly empty bottle around in his left hand. Dave hadn’t noticed it before. It seemed like his uncle was waiting to get back to his drinking, for Dave to stop distracting him.

Dave nodded, a little cowed still by this man who used to run his life and fill his nightmares, waking and sleeping.

“Then g’wan. Get out of here, you ungrateful brat.” He raised a hand. In spite of himself, Dave flinched.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Blaine’s firm, quick steps on the porch, and his firmer voice. He put an arm around Dave’s shoulder, stopping his retreat, firming up his resolve, helping him stand, and not run.

“Nothing. We’re done here. Nothing left to say.” Dave marched down the steps, back towards his new life. Maybe he hadn’t said it right. But he’d said it. He slid into the car. Blaine looked at him, and nodded. 

They drove home.

He went to the Hutchinsons, and hugged Ken, and hung out with the Blaines, and ate a big supper, and cried a little, before he went to bed—but not much. No need to waste tears over the past anymore. Like he’d said, it was time to let go.

#

They went swimming in the old quarry pond. They met up with old friends (and girlfriends) from school. Dave played spontaneous games of football with some of his old teammates. He and Ken cruised the town in Ken’s flashy car, and stopped for ice cream, and confronted Dave’s old boss about the stolen letters and money. They just said that they knew (in front of a crowded store), and then turned and walked out, side by side.

And Dave showed him where he’d been staying on his own, and he and Ken stood in the phone booth, and together, called Duluth.

“Hello? It’s me, Kenny. Can you put me through to—” He glanced at Dave, and shrugged. “Well, anyone who’s there. Mother? Father? Lana?” He brightened. “Hey, Lana!” He smiled at Dave. “How ya doing, kid?”

“Great! What are you doing? Is Dave there?”

Then Dave was reaching for the phone. “Here, let me talk to her. Hey kiddo! You behaving yourself? Eating your ice cream? Avoiding all those vegetables?”

Even from here, Ken could hear the embarrassed and so-pleased “Daaaave!”

He glared at Dave, and grabbed the phone away from him. 

Quit flirting with my kid sister!

The only trouble was, Dave always seemed to be flirting, and never to realize it. He’d actually told Mrs. Hutchinson once that she had “quite the dress on.” Ken’s mother had just stared at Dave, until he’d shrugged, and raised his eyebrows and grinned. “But I won’t tell if you won’t.” And he’d walked away, leaving her staring after him, probably wondering what kind of idiot Ken’s friend was.

He finished talking to Lana, and hung up. After the phone call, Dave stared at him. “What’s the problem, huh?”

“I don’t want you teaching her any of your bad habits. And…Dave…”

“What?” Dave stared at him, standing close in the small booth. “What’s the matter?”

Ken debated with himself. Lana would die of embarrassment if she knew he told. But Dave would only keep making it worse, if he didn’t know.

“Okay, but promise to keep this secret. I mean, promise.”

“Ken, of course.” He gripped his arm. “What is it?”

Ken ran a hand back through his hair. “She’s got a crush on you. Don’t make it worse, huh?”

Dave blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’ indeed. Dave. It isn’t your fault. Just…you know. Don’t encourage her. She’s too young to get her heart broke—by you or anyone else, if you ask me.”

“Well, you’re her big brother. You’re always going to feel that way. But…yeah.” He looked troubled. “Just a nice little kid. I thought…”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I thought she was kinda like my sister, too. I’ll be more careful, Ken…”

“I know ya will.” Ken nudged his shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here, huh? It’s getting hard to breathe.”

“Uh—yeah.” They shimmied out of the booth, and walked back to the car over the hot parking lot.

“Wouldn’t think I’d have that effect on girls when I don’t want to,” Dave mumbled.

“Sure. You’re just bein’ a nice guy. But you’re older, and ‘cool.’”

“Thanks…” Dave looked down a moment, embarrassed. “Wait. Was that cool, or ‘cool.’” He cast Ken a glance. “Were you being sarcastic?”

Ken grimaced. “Kind of both. But…yeah, you are.”

“Thanks.” Dave’s smile widened. He ran a hand back through his curls. “I’ll try to tone it back around the kid. Maybe she’ll grow out of it. I don’t want to hafta stop bein’ around her. She’s a great little kid. And she’s great at Candyland, Hutch—I mean, for her age.”

Ken rolled his eyes. “Dave, she’s not great at it, you just suck at it.”

“Hey, I won once!”

“Yeah, the first time. And never since.”

They continued to the car, bickering.

Chapter 18

The month passed more quickly than the one on the farm had. The days of Hazel’s cooking, Blaine’s companionable, fatherly presence, the familiar old roads, the swimming hole, and the familiar old beds came to a close. The boys packed up, tanned and sad, wiry and even more muscular from all their swimming, games, and running around, and headed out on the long drive back.

Since his father wasn’t anywhere nearby, and Dave promised to be a careful driver, Ken played the passenger for a large portion of the return trip, putting his feet up and playing with his guitar while Dave drove, radio turned off, or sometimes on, both of them singing along if it was a tune they knew.

They stopped at hotels when they needed to, and no one asked them if they were old enough to rent a room. 

“I like this, Hutch. We’re gettin’ mature. Soon enough we’ll be grownups and nobody’ll tell us what to do.”

“Let’s not talk about that yet,” said Ken. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s as great as it’s cracked up to be. Ooh, look, a plant. Let’s get it, Davey. Like a souvenir!”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Ken, you already bought three cactuses and a miniature palm tree! How many souvenirs do you want?”

“Just one more. C’mon—pull over.” He tugged Dave’s arm, and pointed to the little stand alongside the road. It sold citrus, jelly, pies—and a few wilted houseplants. Trust Ken to find them; it was like he had plant radar.

Obediently, Dave pulled over, and Ken hopped out, all grins, to purchase his new baby. Sure enough, he picked the most pathetic one, a plant that needed nursed back to health.

Dave took a detour; Hutch, eying his plants, watching the passing scenery, and strumming on his guitar, didn’t notice until they were nearly there.

Then he sat forward, looking around nervously. “What— This isn’t the way we came, Dave.”

Dave sent him a slow smile. “Nurses are somethin’, pal.”

“Huh?” His brow was wrinkling like crazy as he tried to understand. “You’re visiting one of your nurse friends? But Starsk, you know we’ve got to get back. I have that job starting soon, and—”

“Ken, would you think for a minute?” He reached across and slapped his knee. “My pal, the nurse? She knew about your kid…? And…she got me the address.” He gestured with a hand, as if drawing the words in the air.

“Oh.” Ken shrank back into his seat. “W-we-we’re spying on my kid?”

“Only if you want to, Kenny. I thought we’d just drive by, see what the house looks like.”

“Feel like a stalker.”

“You’re not a stalker if you’re just driving by to see where they live.”

“Are you sure?” But he gripped the side of the car now, peering all around.

“That one, up ahead.” Dave nodded. “With the green trim.”

“Ooh.” They both gawked, as Dave drove slowly by. It was a comfortable-looking middle-class house. Not rich as Ken’s parents’ place, but wealthier than his aunt and uncle. The lawn seemed neatly trimmed, the place well-cared-for.

Ken couldn’t seem to take his eyes away.

A woman sat on a cloth in the backyard, with a baby stretched out beside her. The baby wore only a diaper, and the woman sat beside him, wearing sunglasses, a sundress and little or no makeup, reading a paperback. Dave recognized the lady as the adoptive mom, although she looked less formal today.

“You sure it’s safe for them to sit out like that?”

“Sure, Kenny. Didn’t your mom ever sun your kid sister when she was little? It’s supposed to be good for babies.”

“Uh—she got the maid to do that. Yeah.” Ken scraped a hand back through his hair. “So…she’s taking good care of him?”

As they neared the end of the block, still watching, the woman set down her book, glanced at the baby, and gently turned him over. She paused for a moment to play with his feet, leaning forward and saying something in baby talk. The child kicked his feet in the air. He giggled, a gurgle of happiness. 

“I’d say so, yes,” said Dave.

Ken turned around again quickly in his seat, facing forward, his ears going red. “We’d better go, before she sees us.”

Dave glanced at him, then nodded. He changed gears and sped up smoothly. The blue car ate up the road. Ken didn’t speak, and Dave left him alone with his thoughts—at least for the first fifteen minutes.

“You okay, Kenny?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He sounded faint and distracted.

Dave glanced at him, then reached over and put a hand on his arm, gave him a squeeze. “You glad you saw?”

“Now I’m j-just more worried,” he admitted.

“More worried? Why?”

“Uh—you’ll laugh.”

“Probably. Give me a try.”

“What if he gets sunburn?”

Dave bit his lip to keep back a snort. “You saw she keeps checking him.”

“Y-yeah…”

“Come on. What else.”

“Why didn’t…” His voice trailed off, and he looked out, as far away as he could look, blinking. 

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t my mom sun my sister and me like that? When we were babies? Why was it…always something she told the maid to do? If it’s really good for babies…”

“Maybe she did it herself sometimes. You don’t know.”

“No.” His answer held finality. “She was too busy. She…never played with Lana’s feet like that when she was little. Maybe…maybe she just…”

“Ken. You can’t remember everything about when you or your sister were babies. You were what, six when she was born? Or about that? That’s still pretty young. I’m sure your mother loved you, and still does, even if she’s not the best at showing it.”

Just like I’m sure that my ma loves me, even though she sent me to California…

“Y-yeah, I guess you’re right, Davey. I’m over-thinking things.”

“You tend to do that,” said Dave, letting him accept the blame, for now. But at the same time, he wondered how Mrs. Hutchinson could come across so cold to her own children. They were both real special. You’d think she’d be extra proud of them, seeing as they were smart, well-behaved, good students, and good-looking, too. All that ought to be enough to make any mother proud, surely. Even one should.

Up until now, he’d been secretly hoping she was more demonstrative in private. But seeing Ken get so devastated about a little bit of affection a baby received made him rethink it, made his heart throb with pain for Ken. Poor Ken. He was awfully needy in his own way…never could seem to be confident about people—anyone, really—loving him. Even now that he had Dave.

I’ll teach him. I’ll make sure he knows, he thought, and comforted himself with this decision. He’s never gonna have to doubt I love him…

#

They made it back eventually. Dave drove quietly on the last stretch. It was night, and Ken sat flushed with a hint of sunburn in the passenger seat, holding three plants on his lap, his head lolled back, snoring.

Dave pulled quietly into the driveway, and lifted the plants out of his hands before gently shaking him awake.

“Ken. Kenny. You’re home. Time to climb the stairs and go to bed.”

“Oh. Hm.” Ken rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked at Dave blearily. “You’re coming up, too.”

“Uh—no. I’ll just—”

“Dave! You don’t have your apartment rented. Now you’re not sleeping in the car, or some rat hole. C’mon.” He plucked his friend’s arm, and, eventually, the two of them went inside, and fell asleep in their clothes, and slept in until almost noon. Then they were glad enough to be in a big place like the Hutchinson’s house, where they didn’t have to fight over who used the shower first—there were plenty of showers to choose from, in Hutchinson Manor. 

When Dave called it that, Ken threw his cowboy hat at him.

#

“Dave…” Ken wore red swim trunks and a Lifeguard vest. He was getting ready to meet Jack for their new job. Dave wore his regular uniform of jean shorts and a t-shirt, his only concession to the lakefront being that he was barefoot.

“Kenny, you know swimming’s not my thing. You two have fun. I got my own job to keep me busy.” 

Yeah, McDonalds. “Okay, okay.” Ken raised his hands. “Don’t get sore.”

“I ain’t sore—you’re the sore one.” He faked a punch at Ken’s arm, and Ken drew back, grinned at him, and tackled him into the course lake sand.

“Ooh, look who’s feeling his oats!” taunted Dave, grinning up at him. “Think you can beat me in a wrestling match, huh?”

“Maybe! You’re not the only one who’s getting stronger!” Maybe soon he’d be able to beat Dave for real. Not that it mattered—but somehow or other, it seemed like they were always testing their strength against each other, kind of like the way Jack used to seem to need to test his strength against Ken when they were small.

“Well, let’s see what ya got, Blintz—no holds barred.”

“Dave,” said Ken, blinking down at him, pausing in the middle of trying to get a good lock on his buddy. “Holds barred. Always holds barred.”

Dave grinned up at him sheepishly. “Yeah—I guess so. ‘Cuz we’re really on the same team and all.” He reached up with his free hand and gave Ken a fake punch in the arm.

“That’s right—don’t you forget it.” He winked. “Peanut butter.”

“Jelly.”

“Ham and cheese on rye.”

“W-what?!” Dave laughed aloud at the absurdity.

“That’s right. I just called you a ham and cheese sandwich.”

“I heard you. But why?”

“I have no idea. Maybe because…you’re not really that kosher?”

“Oh ho, you are goin’ down for that one, Blintz—Peanut butter Blintz! You’re the nut! You!”

Laughing, they continued the verbal sparring, each wrestling for a better hold on the other.

“You two at it again?” Jack walked up, resplendent in his Lifeguard vest and blue swimming trunks. 

“Hey Jack!” Ken grinned at him and waved from his position on the ground.

“Hey Jack,” said Dave, without looking up.

Jack knelt by them, and grinned down at his friend. “Need some help there, buddy of mine?”

“No, I’m fi— Oof!” He laughed, as Dave got him in a firmer lock.

“Say uncle?” said Dave, grinning down at him, showing his teeth.

“Auntie.” Ken stuck his tongue out, and then with a great heave threw him free.

“Aw! Unfair!” Dave rubbed his head, and frowned up at him. “I swear, you’re gettin’ better at this…”

“If you two kids are done playing,” said Jack, “Hutch and I have work to do.”

“Important work,” echoed Ken, rising to his feet and dusting off his sandy legs. “‘Cuz we’re so mature.”

“Mature? You? Yeah, right. Gimme that, Blintz.” He was on his feet in an instant, and made a grab at Ken’s vest. Loosened by their wrestling, it came free in a jiffy, and Dave ran with it, chortling, down the beach. His bare feet flashed and he held the vest up like a prize.

“You—! Get back here, Davey!” Laughing, Ken took off after him.

“Yeah, real mature,” said Jack.

When Ken came back a few minutes later, laughing, exhausted, red in the face, Jack already sat in the lifeguard chair, looking oddly serious. He moved over and made room for Ken without a word.

“You’re the mature one, Jack.” Ken looked at his friend. “You’ve accepted Dave and everything. You really are growing up.” He looked down the beach wistfully, where Dave was kneeling on the sand, piling it into a huge mound for a sandcastle. “I wonder when I will.”

“Buddy.” Jack hooked an arm round his neck. “You’re mature enough. You’re not the one that tries to hold drunken parties at your friends’ houses when their parents are away. And Dave would never ask you to.”

Ken cast him a quick, pleased look, appreciative of the implicit apology. “Actually, he kind of did, once—except he promised no alcohol…and…and would you forget about that? It’s over. Don’t go feeling bad about it anymore, you hear?”

Jack raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Or what?”

Ken grinned, and shrugged. “I dunno—just don’t!”

“Okay. I guess I’d better listen to the lifeguard.” He turned back to facing the water. “Hey, I think we’ve got a candidate for rescue.” He pointed, to where a swimmer bobbed, far out and erratically.

“Where? Oh! Do you want to go, or should I?”

“Both,” said Jack. “First rescue—we’ll share it.”

“Okay.” They headed down the lake’s beach, their strides matching, their teeth gleaming in the sun.

#

Dave got his jacket and headed for the door, following Ken.

“Did you hear? I rescued somebody today. Well, together—we both did.” Ken grinned at him. He’d come by Dave’s small apartment to bring him over for supper; the Hutchinsons were having lamb chops with mint sauce, and Dave was invited.

“Hey, good work, Kenny. I mean that.” Dave smiled at him, and gave him a pat on the stomach. He regarded his friend. If anything, Ken stood taller, and his smile looked wider. This job really was good for him, wasn’t it? Jack had been right. Good!

Dave had thought for awhile he and Jack were going to be constantly at odds over Ken. He’d thought Jack was just a user, a jerk who liked bossing people around. But either he’d been wrong, or Jack had changed.

He really is a good friend to you, isn’t he, Kenny? I guess I can see what you see in him after all.

As they headed out the door, he asked, “Hey, did you talk to your dad any more about bein’ cops? Is he gettin’ used to the idea?”

“Well…” Ken shrugged, a little unhappily. “I think he’s pretending to, but he doesn’t think I’ll mean it by the time I graduate. Like it’s a fad I’ll grow out of.”

“Maybe it is.” Dave watched him. “Maybe you’ll be a lifeguard. I can see it now.” He spread his hands, squinting up as if reading skywriting. “You and Jack—the dynamic duo—the magnificent two—saving lives left and right. Mitch and Hutch—the lifeguard team. All the ladies swooning…”

Ken laughed. “In the first place, my dad would not approve of that as a career choice either, and you know it. In the second…” He stepped forward, and slid an arm around Dave. “It’s you and me, and you know that, too. Starsky and Hutch—the dynamic—whatever it was you just said.”

Dave grinned, and patted him on the arm. “Just checking.”

“Yeah, well don’t. I’m not such a jerk that I’d change my mind. Remember? We’re on the same team—now and always.”

Dave’s smile disappeared, and he sobered. “Yeah, I know it, Kenny—I also know how loyal ya are to your friends. So—” He shrugged. “If you change your mind, if you don’t wanna be cops, you’d rather do something else instead, it’s okay, ya hear?”

Ken frowned at him, brow wrinkling, looking hurt. “You and my dad both? Man. I’m not so fickle.” He reached across and shoved Dave.

“Ow.” Dave rubbed his arm. “All right. Just wanted to throw that out there. I don’t want you feeling trapped, like I’m trying to tell you what to do. It’s your life, and—”

“No! No, it isn’t. Would you give it a rest?” He glared at Dave, and his eyes were turning that bright, bright blue that meant he was upset, even close to tears. “It isn’t my life. It’s you and me. Together. Our life. If you don’t want to be a cop, then tell me, and we’ll figure out something else. But I’m not going into banking, or whatever, just because there’s more money involved, because it’s more ‘respectable.’ You and me—we wanted to work together, and we planned to, and, well, if anybody breaks that up, then—then it had better be you, because it’s sure as hell not gonna be me!”

“All right, Kenny. All right! You know best.” He leaned forward, and caught Ken against him in a hug. “You know best.” He felt Ken’s tense muscles, but could also felt them beginning to relax. 

If Dave wasn’t entirely convinced—why would a guy with so much potential want to waste it on Dave?—he was at least willing to put it aside, keep his doubts silent for now, and bring it up, if ever, at a later date and in a more tactful way. And, well, he did get to spend right now with Ken, so why worry about the future? Just because he’d lost the other people who ever mattered in his life… 

Anyway, that was changing now. He had Ken. And…maybe the Blaines, too.

He hooked an arm around Ken’s neck, and smiled at him. “So are we gonna be late for supper, Blintz? You want me to drive? I’m a lot faster.”

Ken laughed shakily. “I know you are—and I don’t want a speeding ticket, thank you very much. I’ll drive. And, you know, my fath—”

“Yes, yes, your father! He doesn’t like me driving, I get it! Blintz, you just wait till I get my own car. I’m going to be driving all the time, you’ll see. And you’ll just have to put up with it. You’ll have to be the passenger, and if I’m going too fast, well, you can tell me to slow down, or you can put the siren on—but you’ll ride in my red car, and you’ll like it!”

Ken smiled at him, a widening, rather shy smile. He nodded. “I’ll like it, Dave. Yeah.”

They climbed into the blue car (for now), and drove off, towards the future.

[[[the end]]]

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**Author's Note:**

> Uploading this because Google Sites won't let me keep it there!


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